Dark Flower
by Purely Superficial
Summary: While serving the Dubrinsky Psychic Haven in the United States, Isaac discovers his lifemate in Santa Monica. Sarina Tobin is a woman of infinite compassion but cancer and hardship have taken their toll and now the Morrison Foundation is closing in.
1. Chapter 1

Los Angeles. A Crazy, controversial town that made a name for itself by constantly pushing the package. A sprawling metropolis encroaching on the ancient desert, oblivious to everything but itself, and full of self-centered and violent people.

Isaac didn't hate L.A. That would have been impossible since he lost emotions and color almost 900 years ago. He was uncomfortable. That was the right word. Even as a being completely void of a spark of feeling, Isaac preferred the cover of old Germanic forests to the blazing lights and occasional brush fires of southern California.

Still, the prince had ordered him to accompany the Trovatellis as they set up a counter-psychic research facility in the western hemisphere. Also, as was pointed out by his old friend Laroux, the United States seemed to have the highest occurrence of compatible female psychics. That was likely due to the original immigrants of the nation being the oddballs, outcasts, even freaks of the European nations.

At the moment, Jas and Maddie Trovatelli were setting up the facility headquarters in Montana while his friend Laroux and his lifemate Melanie were searching the east coast for undiscovered psychics. The plan was to make gifted people aware of the haven, even if they chose not to visit at the present time, and collect information on potential lifemates. A secondary mission was confronting the Morison Foundation on its own terms. While they knew a master vampire controlled the Morrison group, until now they had not tried to press the issue in such a public front. In fact, it wasn't until many of their males had found lifemates in modern women that they even considered changing their centuries-proven methods.

Now Isaac was scanning Los Angels in the form of an owl for flairs of psychic power. He did the job mechanically but thoroughly. He was nearing the coast when an unexpected ocean breeze brought him a faint perfume. It was masked by the scents of carnival food, old seaweed and many sweating human bodies, but somehow it crept into his senses.

Sweet. Fresh. Feminine.

He paused for a moment, circling to savor the scent, unique and refreshing like an oasis in the junk-yard desert. A voice drifted up to him just as sweet as the scent.

"There you are. A pair of vampire lovers," the voice almost sang. "Good enough to eat!"

Laughter followed the comment and he could just catch her tinkling chuckle. It played along his spine like bells.

Even at night, the brilliant colors of Santa Monica nearly blinded him. No longer was the sky black, but hazy indigo, light pollution crowding out all but the brightest stars. His breath caught as a lump of joy lodged in his throat. _SHE_ was down there. The light to his darkness. All he had to do was swoop down to the pier and meet her.

"More than just characters," Sarina called. "See yourself as a goblin, elf, fairy or dwarf! Fantasy portraits, all sizes and subjects!"

"Draw me," a deep melodious voice suggested.

Sarina looked up into the glinting green eyes of a predator. For a minute, she forgot to breath as she took in the tall, dark, and classically hansom stranger. His black hair glinted with the rainbow of lights from the Santa Monica pier. He was dressed simply, black jeans and a black button down shirt, but the cut and quality of his clothes betrayed enormous wealth and European style. He oozed strength and power. She shivered at the cold, possessive light in those emerald eyes.

"Wh-What would you like?" Sarina stammered.

"Anything," he replied as he gracefully sank onto the stool in front of her mobile art studio. "Just draw me."

With trembling fingers, Sarina picked up her pens and began to draw. It wasn't long before she picked up her colored markers and highlighted her monochrome lines. She glanced up furtively once in a while, but she sensed the danger in staring at him for too long.

Isaac studied her and savored the colors radiating off her while she drew. She had brilliant blue hair cut short and layered to frame her face. Her skin was the color of rich, golden honey, and her slanted eyes were dark coffee brown. He remembered her calls for customers, her accent reminiscent of England, but he couldn't place it. She was too skinny, her bony joints showing even through the over sized Navy sweatshirt she wore against the chilly sea breeze.

His inspection was interrupted when she deftly flipped a thick page of paper in front of him. He stared at the page for a moment, startled by the image. A green dragon coiled around a rock. On the rock was a pole with manacles bolted to the top. Obviously, the monster was waiting for his virgin sacrifice. The colors were a delicious feast for the eyes, but the image they depicted was chillingly close to the truth.

When Isaac looked up again, Sarina and her art supplies were gone. He saw her hurrying down the pier. As she stepped off the wooden boards, he appeared in front of her. She gasped, choked, and coughed. Alarmed, Issac circled her slender shoulders, seeking to ease her struggle for breath. She covered her coughs and when her hand came away, it was speckled with blood. She hastily wiped it on her jeans.

"You are ill," Isaac stated, deep concern reflecting in those ominous green eyes.

"I'll be better soon," Sarina assured him.

"You are lying," he admonished.

"I'm being optimistic," she insisted.

"Why are you out in the cold?" he demanded. "You should be resting somewhere warm."

"I've gotta make the green to pay the doctors," she replied with a shrug. "Look, keep the picture. No charge. I need to be going."

"Wait," Isaac held tightly to her shoulders, but was careful not to exert any bruising force. "Please don't go. Just walk with me."

"Oh ho," Sarina cried with a knowing smile. "I'm not falling for that one. I don't even know who you are."

"Forgive my bad manors," he apologized. He stepped back and bowed elegantly. "My name is Isaac Liederman. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Whatever you say, slick," Sarina said, eying him with skepticism.

"Might I know your name?" he requested softly.

She thought about refusing, but something in his voice made her want to tell him. "Sarina Tobin," she muttered and bobbed a quick curtsy.

"Sarina," Isac savored her name. "Would you at least allow me the honor of buying you a cup of coffee? It is the least I can do in return for such insightful art."

"I never touch the stuff," she replied. "And while a cup of chamomile tea would not go amiss, the insight of the picture you mention makes me predisposed to respectfully decline."

Isaac smiled, already in love with her diction, the way she played with words when she was flustered. By reading her thoughts, he could tell that she was close to bolting, but seemed determined to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was trying to be so chivalrous. However, the "benefit of the doubt" did not mean she was going to act foolishly. Her courage and common sense warmed his heart as nothing had for centuries.

"Then may I escort you home?" he inquired.

"I'm afraid none my know the location of my fortress of solitude," she teased nervously. "But if it's a choice between one over the other, I'll take the tea."

Isaac had the sudden impulse to tell her a juke, just to hear her really laugh, but he had not found anything amusing in centuries so he contented himself to gently guide her to a nearby restaurant with outdoor tables. He waved at the waiter as if they were old friends, and indeed, with a small mental push, he made sure the waiter would provide the best service possible.

"Wow, this is nice," Sarina murmured as they were shown to a table under an outdoor heater. Isaac held the chair for her as she sat down. She seemed reluctant to let go of her mobile easel and art supplies, hugging them close as if they provided comfort. No sooner had Isaac taken his seat than the waiter served two large mugs of aromatic chamomile tea.

"Would you like to order anything?" the waiter inquired.

"No thank you," Sarina replied. "Tea is enough for me."

"_Meine liebe,_ you are too thin. Please eat something," Isaac insisted.

"Whatever I eat now will just come up later, anyway," she reasoned. "No sense in wasting food on my flimsy stomach."

"I insist. Please bring her a fruit salad," he instructed the waiter.

"Small please!" she called after the waiter.

"Now, tell me about your illness," Isaac commanded softly.

"Just run of the mill cancer," she replied before she could stop herself. "My odds of living a full life are excellent since they were able to surgically remove the tumors before they metastasized into the blood stream."

Issac cursed himself for not finding and healing her sooner. That she had to undergo the savagery of surgery created a tangible ache of grief so powerful he almost missed her next words.

"It's my own fault," she continued. "I took on too many diseases when I visited the children's ward, one was bound to stick around."

"You 'took on' disease?" Isaac repeated. "May I ask how?"

"You may ask, but on that account I will not answer you," she replied firmly. "Scowl at me all you want but I'm not about to be fed to the gossip mill as a faith healer or worse, and I've told you too much already."

So she was a natural healer, with a soft spot for children. Her methods were unique, if he was reading between the lines correctly, in that she absorbed the miladies to fight them in her own body, rather than use a child's organs as a battlefield. She was remarkably courageous. His respect and awe for her was goring by the minute.

"I would never feed you to the gossip mill," he vowed softly.

"I am grateful for your discretion," she smiled and took a sip of her tea.

"You enchant me," Isaac sighed.

"You must be high," Sarina replied smoothly. "There is nothing remotely enchanting about me. I'm skinny and bony and pale as death, and the only way I can make a buck under the cover of night, when most people can't see how ghastly I really look."

"It is not about your physical appearance," he assured her. "Your heart and soul radiate light and compassion. Your beauty glows from the inside."

"Now you're making me blush," she accused. Fortunately, just then the waiter brought her fruit salad. Despite all her intentions to be demur, she hadn't had fresh berries in weeks, and she dug in with a will.

"Tell me. When you're not reading to sick children or drawing insightful fantasies, what do you do?" Isaac asked, partially memorized by watching bits of fruit lovingly enveloped by her luscious lips.

"I watch Russian ballet," she replied between bites. "I used to dance, but the chem-o has taken away most of my muscle tone."

His heart yearned to see her move with the graceful strength of a ballet dancer. He could tell she had the passionate yet subtle nature that could make her great.

"What is your favorite dance?"

"The Fire Bird," she sighed with a longing that tugged on his heart.

"A beautiful dance," he agreed.

"So enough about me. Tell me about yourself. What do you do that you can afford lavishing chamomile tea and fruit salad on common street peddlers?" she countered with a grin.

"I own significant shares in major businesses around the world. It takes little time to maintain them," he answered vaguely.

"What sort of businesses?" Sarina persisted.

"Technology and banking, mostly." Then he added, "Although most recently, I've invested in a foundation for psychic research."

Sarina went very still and set down her fork. "You wouldn't happen to be speaking for the Morrison Foundation, would you?"

"No, this is a newer establishment called the Dubrinsky Psychic Haven. It was actually founded to counter the atrocities perpetuated by the Morrison Foundation," he explained. "Apparently you are aware of their dark reputation."

"I occasionally meet a representative at the hospital. He always gives me the willies!" she shivered. "I've told the kids I work with not to even _pretend _they're psychic around him." She took another sip of tea to calm her nerves.

"Good advice," Isaac nodded.

"Well," she said with a tone of finality, "this has been lovely, but I have to get up early tomorrow morning."

"What are you doing tomorrow morning?" he asked, his voice interested and seductive at once.

"Something personal," she replied firmly as she collected her art studio.

Isaac probed her mind and frowned at the images he found. "You are going to the state penitentiary to meet an older man," he stated disapprovingly.

Sarina gasped in indignation. "How did you know that?"

"Were we not just talking about psychic research?" he reminded her with an arch of his eyebrow.

"So you can read my mind?" she cried, outraged. "Well, don't! I have no affinity for parlor tricks. And don't look so grouchy. You've known me all of thirty minutes—you certainly have no say in what I do on my own time—regardless of your Madam Cleo act."

"I did not mean to offend you." Isaac tried to placate her. He tried to investigate her feelings for the incarcerated man, but anger, betrayal, and fear warred in her mind, blocking him from reading deeper into her memories without alerting her to what he was doing.

"You did. You're no better than a common prowler or peeping tom. Good night, Mr. Leiderman," she declared haughtily before she stood and stormed away from the table.

Isaac couldn't help smiling at her temper. It had been an eternity since anyone had dared to tell him off, and he felt curiously guilty for invading her privacy without her consent. Still, she was his lifemate, there was no doubt. His first duty was to see to her safety, and a sickly woman walking home unescorted was certainly not safe.

He left a 20 on the table and dissipated into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarina was livid as she navigated the streets home. Just the thought of someone trying to _pick her up—_andwith a lame psychic routine! As if that wasn't enough, his tone of voice when he said "an older man" and "state penitentiary," as if she was a child playing hooky with with the wrong crowd. She had every right to do as she pleased tomorrow morning, regardless of what a meddling telepath might think about her choice of company.

She fumed all the way home, a grand total of 4 blocks from the pier. She ducked in and out of shops to make sure Isaac wasn't following her. When she finally got to her apartment building, most of her anger was spent. She just felt like swimming.

When she reached her 3rd story apartment, she set her wig on one of the many foam heads on her dresser and slipped a purple swimming cap on over her bald scalp. She'd been without hair for a few months now, but it was a good idea to cover her head with something when her body was already having difficulty regulating its temperature. She also quickly changed into a purple tankini swimsuit with board shorts. She grabbed a towel and headed upstairs to the rooftop pool.

Sarina loved to swim. She loved water in general. Rain or ocean or chlorinated pool water, it didn't matter. Somehow the soothing ripples just soaked away all her anxieties. One of her biggest worries when she'd been diagnosed with cancer was that she wouldn't be able to swim. Fortunately, her doctor had cleared her for moderate aquatic exorcises, which mean she could do leisurely laps in the pool to her hearts content but she couldn't swim in the ocean yet.

She heard a chair scrape behind her and held back a sigh. She'd hoped she'd be alone most of the night, but it seemed it was not to be. She rolled onto her back in the water to see who it was.

It was Isaac.

Without thinking, Sarina let out half her store of air, and without any fat reserves she quickly sank below the surface of the water. It was a useful trick she'd leaned as a kid. When she was in the ocean, she could just swim away from trouble, but in a pool it only bought her a minute or two before she had to confront whoever she was trying to avoid.

That oaf. He had followed her. Probably bribed the doorman too. She didn't want to deal with his psychic nonsense or those piercing, lonely green eyes. From all his attempts to endear himself to her over tea, she suspected he was high on special brownies. No man saw her as attractive these days. And she was all the more grateful for it since she had no interest in men.

There was nothing for it, she would have to be direct and ask him to leave. If he didn't, she could always go to her apartment and lock the doors. If he still didn't leave her alone, then she would call the police.

No sooner had she decided this than she heard through the water the muffled rumble of a splash at the other end of the pool. Great. Now he was in the water with her. She slowly rose to the surface and wiped her eyes clear of water so she could glare properly.

When she saw Isaac standing waist deep in the water, all protests died in her throat. His body was beautifully sculpted. Muscles were clearly outlined in the blue pool light, the water making every ripple glisten. His long hair was loose, and it made him look ridiculously romantic, like a hero on the cover of a trashy novel. He just stood, taking her in as she took him in.

Isaac wanted to weep at the sight of his lifemate's body. She was so ravaged by the chemo and radiation therapy used to kill the malignant cells that she was barely a skeleton. Her swimming cap did nothing to alleviate the pang in his heart at the knowledge of her bald head, and all the pain that it implied. But still she was beautiful. Her shoulders were built for strength and she held them squared with purpose. Her bones were well aligned, and her pose was perfect. She unconsciously assumed the third position in ballet, one heal in front of the other, toes pointed straight sideways. She had obviously surfaced with the purpose of telling him off, but, Isaac was pleased to see, the chemistry between lifemates was beginning to have an effect on her.

"Hello again," he said softly, feigning surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Sarina asked crisply, furious with herself for gawking like a teenager.

"I just moved in," he claimed. "I thought I would take advantage of the pool after all the unpacking I did today."

"Bullshit," she replied smoothly. "There hasn't been a vacancy here in months."

"A tenant moved out this morning, and I was fortunate enough to be on a waiting list," he replied smoothly. "I think a better question would be how a street peddler can afford such lavish accommodations."

"If you must know, I also provide illustrations for the hentai industry," she snapped.

"Lier," he accused with a smirk.

"Don't you dare do your little psychic routine," Sarina warned. She waded furiously over to the stairs and got out of the pool.

Isaac's breath caught in his throat as he watched the water cascade from her body. She moved with such grace, it was impossible not to admire her.

"I was curious if you would like to go out for tea again tomorrow night," Isaac said. "Then you can tell me about the person of interest you are meeting tomorrow."

She whirled on him so fast that water droplets sprayed from her swimsuit. "Mind your own beeswax!" she nearly shouted. "I don't know where you come from or who sent you, but I refuse to be talked down to for going about my business. You have no right to use your gift of telepathy on me when I didn't invite you. You also have no right using your pilfered knowledge to try to make me feel bad for not divulging the rest of my agenda. I don't know you. I don't trust you. I don't even like you at the moment. And if you don't want me calling the cops, suing for harassment, and-or getting a restraining order, you will leave me the hell alone from now on."

Isaac though she looked splendid when she was mad. A true firebird.

"I am not stalking you, mein liebe. We just happen to be meeting quite a bit tonight," Isaac replied, unruffled by her lecture.

"Then we will not meet again tonight, because I'm going to bed," she fumed. She turned on her heal and marched away from the pool.

Suddenly Isaac was in front of her. She hadn't even heard him splash as he left the pool. He towered over her, easily a foot taller than she. Then again, she was only 5 feet tall to start with, so maybe he wasn't really as solid and imposing and formidable as he looked right now.

"How did you do that?" Sarina cried, her heart pounding in alarm.

"Call it another one of my gifts," Isaac said, his voice deep and mesmerizing, as he reached out to gently trace her jawline with two fingers.

She dodged his hand and tried to step around him, but he stayed firmly between her and the door.

"Get out of my way or I'll scream," she threatened.

"Tell me who you are meeting tomorrow, and I will step aside," Isaac bargained. He wanted to make sure she wasn't meeting someone who might comprise her safety, like an old boyfriend.

"You son of a bitch—why the hell do you care?" she demanded.

"Because I worry about you. Because it is my duty and privilege to protect you," he answered honestly. He wanted to touch her skin, run his fingers in rejuvenating patterns over her scalp, heal her body so that she might know his. He could tell she was panicking, overwhelmed by his blatant advances when she believed she didn't merit them.

"You haven't known me for more than a few hours; since when did you become my protector?" she groweled.

"Since the moment I met you and knew you were the other half of my soul," he whispered. He bent forward and kissed her. It was supposed to be just a light kiss, to reassure her, but as soon as the first kiss was broken, he stole another. A long, dizzying kiss that robbed them both of breath. Firecrackers seemed to be exploding down his spine. She felt as if she was caught in a rip tide, just waiting for the rocky shore to slam into her body. Isaac caught that image in her mind and it gave him the strength to break the kiss.

"Tell me who you are meeting tomorrow," he repeated.

Sarina gulped, wet her lips, closed her eyes for the count of three before answering, "My father."

Isaac chivalrously stepped to one side to let her pass. "That was all you needed to say, mein liebe," he said with a small courtly bow.

She glared at him, upset with herself for letting him get the information out of her, for letting him kiss her, for the way he was so smug. She felt like slapping him. Instead she walked past him without another word. Once in the safety of her apartment, she bolted the door and even put a chair up against the handle. With a small prayer that there wouldn't be a catastrophic fire tonight, she showered, changed for bed, and slipped under the covers, exhausted by the whole confusing argument.

* * *

"Hey pumpkin!" called the roughly shaven man. Michael Tobin was a big, burly, blond ex-Marine who looked as intimidating as a grizzly bear. A big orange grizzly bear.

"Good morning, daddy," Sarina replied as she sat down at the visitor's table across from her father.

"Do you have to wear such outlandish hair?" he asked with a comical, pained expression.

"You refused to let me dye it as a teen," she reminded him with a flip of her green bob. "I'm just making the best of the situation." He rolled his eyes tolerantly. "So how's life on the inside?"

"Hell as usual," he sighed. "I'm counting the days until my parole hearing. One hundred seventy two and a half to go. How about you; still sketching fairies and elves down at the pier?"

"Yes, although I met an odd character last nigh that made me consider a hiatus," she recalled. "A bit spooky European sort. His accent is German I think, and his surname is Leiderman. He insisted on treating me to tea in exchange for his picture."

Instantly, Michael's casual demeanor shifted to alert-protective-father mode. "Physical description?" he barked.

Sarina responded instantly, "Between six-foot-one and six-foot-two. One hundred seventy five pounds. Dark hair, below shoulder length, tied back. Green eyes—not hazel, spring green. His features are classically Greek, possibly eastern European."

"Personality profile?" Michael continued.

"Type A. He's commanding, arrogant, efficient, even a little aggressive," she said, remembering the pool incident. "He's wealthy, definitely old money, but he doesn't flaunt it or squander it." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "He claims to be telepathic."

Michael frowned. "Has he made any romantic advances?"

"Sort of," Sarina squirmed at the memory of the kiss. "He keeps calling me _mein liebe_, what ever that means."

"Call Uncle Mark as soon as you get home," he ordered. "Have him run a background check on this Leiderman guy. Mark can also get you a body guard or two."

"Dad, this isn't going to be like the senior prom, is it?" she asked with a lopsided smirk. "I don't need a full Marine escort to handle one jerk."

"Hey, your prom date had severe delusions of lust," her father reminded her. "And I would bring out the entire core to surround you twenty-four-seven, if I could."

"I can take care of myself," she informed him. "I'm all grown up now."

"Grown up and battling cancer!" he emphatically pointed out. "I can't tell you how crazy it makes me that you're sick and I'm stuck in this cement cubical."

"Dad, I'm alright. Really," she insisted. "Your retirement pension pays for my apartment, medical insurance and I get to do what I love most: draw!"

"I know, pumpkin," Michael sighed. "I just worry about my favorite daughter."

"I'm your only daughter," she teased.

"All the more reason for me to be paranoid," he teased back. "But seriously, I want you to call mark. The last thing you need is some playboy on a power trip giving you trouble when you should be getting better."

"Fine," she mock sighed. "I'll call Uncle Mark and take a few precautions."

"Maybe he can get someone to go with you to the pier tonight," he suggested.

"Sure, a looming Marine is really going to bring in the customers," she replied sarcastically.

"You could always dress him up," Michael waggled his eyebrows.

"I like your thinking!" she latched onto the idea. "I'll find him a Legolas costume, and he can be my advertisement!"

"There you go," he laughed.

"Well, I need to get going," Sarina finally said. She stood and leaned over the table to give her father a kiss on the forehead. "I still have to check in with one of my doctors and make a grocery run to Trader Joes before I get to the pier tonight."

"All right, sweetie," her father said as he returned the kiss. "Remember, if anything strange happens—and I mean _anything_—you head right over to Uncle Marks, no hesitation, no second thoughts, no questions asked."

"Yes, daddy," she gave him a wink. "Love you."

"Love you too. Semper Fi"

"Semper Fi."

* * *

Sarina was putting away the groceries when her phone rang. She quickly closed the cubbord doors to answer it.

"Hey there, little Sari," Uncle Mark's voice came through the ear piece.

"Oh, hi, Uncle Mark," she sighed. Obviously her father had called in a favor at the prison to preemptively contact her Marine body guard service.

"Your father mentioned that you were having some trouble with an eccentric admirer," he said.

"It's not that big of a deal," she insisted. She wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear as she finished putting away her frozen foods.

"Your instincts put him on the radar," Mark reminded her. "That's enough reason to be cautious. I'll meet you on the pier a little before sunset."

"If you're not in a blond wig and green tights, don't bother showing up. My customers expect something more than a grumpy old man," she admonished as she closed the freezer door.

"Do I have to be the elf?" he moaned. "I'd make a better dwarf—and then I could still be grumpy."

Sarina laughed. "Fine, you can be a dwarf."

"I'm so relieved. I'm better with a battle ax than a longbow anyway," he confided.

After she hung up, she went to pick out her wig for the night. She had quite a collection of colors and styles, along with hats and hairpins to dress them up. For tonight, she wanted something a little wild, so she picked the lavender wig of tight ringlets. Then she added a butterfly pin made from white feathers.

She smiled at her reflection. No way the tourists could resist staring at her psychedelic Sherly-Temple impression. And after they were done staring at her hair, they'd notice her sign, and out of interest or guilt, they'd commission her to draw them as elves, goblins, or any number of fantastic creatures.

Then she picked up her art supplies and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarina had set up her mobile studio and drawn a coupe of portraits before Mark showed up. She wouldn't have recognized him except that she knew what he was supposed to be. He had a Viking helmet, a bushy fake beard, a studded vest, cross belts, and heavy linen pants. He wore large buckled boots and carried a massive plastic battle ax.

He grinned boyishly. "What do you think?"

"Fabulous," she giggled.

Mark struck a valiant pose, and that quickly the theme of the evening was set. Tons of girls and even a few geeky boys wanted to have their fantasy portrait drawn with the hansom and gruff dwarvish warrior.

Even if Isaac didn't show up tonight, it was still good business to have this sort of body guard, Sarina thought as she finished up her seventeenth portrait. Just a few more portraits and she'd be done for the night. For the sake of her health, she always kept her working hours short, usually quitting by eight o'clock, which was fast approaching. She'd made more tonight that usual, and decided to treat Mark to ice cream.

As she packed up, she wondered if she'd been over reacting about Issac. It was entirely possible that h was just a new tenant who happened to be on the pier the same time as she was last night. And it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that his gratuius actions just resulted from his excitement of getting a much-coveted apartment in her building. And there was no reason to discount her brownies idea.

He was still far to full of his own good looks for her own liking.

"Is that it?" Mark asked, sounding disappointed at the early closing time.

"What do you mean, _is that it?_" Sarina rolled her eyes at his tone. "We've been here for three hours—and you must have gotten half a dozen phone numbers, you hound dog."

"Yeah," he preened, running his hands over his beard. "Women like a barbarian once in a while."

She rolled her eyes.

"But I was hoping your admirer would show up. I feel like a little workout and wouldn't mind tenderizing him a little," Mark said.

"You are such a four-year-old," she accused. "It's no wonder you never settled down."

He shrugged helplessly. "I just haven't found a reason to change my nature yet."

"Well, if your nature calls for ice cream, I'm buying," she offered.

"Alright! You really know how to take care of a guy," Mark cheered and he leaned over to gently squeeze her shoulders. "Why is it no one has taken you off the market yet?"

"Probably because I have a Marine for a father, Marines for uncles, Marines around the table at Thanksgiving, and a vocabulary that can dwarf the average encyclopedia," she laughed and gave him a playful punch.

"If you weren't Sargent Mike's baby girl, I might do the honors myself," he half joked. He chivalrously picked up her mobile studio and they walked down the pier.

"Comrades in arms before spindly artists, eh?" Sarina teased.

"Men who can drop-kick me into the next county before their brilliant and beautiful daughters," he corrected.

Sarina laughed again. It always felt good to hang with her father's old core buddies. They'd watched her grow up, taking on the rolls of older brothers. Uncle was more of a term of endearment than it was a biological relationship. After her mother had died, they had become even more protective of her. When her father had been incarcerated and she'd been diagnosed with cancer, it would have been impossible to breathe if she hadn't already been an independent adult living on her own. As it was, someone usually checked up on her every week. Now that her father had put the alert out, she'd probably be subject to daily inspections.

At the ice cream shop, they each got a scoop of chocolate, Mark covering his with nuts, syrup, sprinkles, mini marshmallows, chopped candy bar bits, and the all important cherry...or three. After they'd finished dessert, Mark walked her back to her apartment.

"Thanks so much, Uncle Mark," Sarina said. She stood on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Anything for you, little Sari," Mark replied as he tenderly hugged her back. "So same time, same place, tomorrow night?"

"I'll see you then," she agreed, knowing it was useless to argue when her father had given the order to protect her. She could protest until she was blue in the face, but Mark would still be there.

"Maybe this time I'll dress up as a ninja," he mused as he waved goodbye.

Sarina sighed contentedly as she watched him go. No Isaac, no trouble, and a good evening of work and ice cream. This was the sort of day she wanted every day, she thought as she punched the up button for the elevator.

Then the elevator doors opened and revealed Isaac leaning casually against the interior wall. Once he saw her, he straightened up and placed his arm against the edge of the door, simultaneously welcoming her into the elevator car and keeping the door open.

"Going up?" he asked in his deep, seductive voice.

Sarina hesitated. For a moment she considered taking the stairs instead, but knew that she was too weak to make it up 3 flights. She also thought to wait for the next _empty_ elevator car, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he would wait hours for her to accept his offer if need be. She decided to walk in without speaking to him, looking at him, or acknowledging his existence in any way.

Isaac dropped his arm and punched the button for Sarina's floor. He had followed and observed her since sunset. He was displeased with the other male's familiarity and the underlying affection that was more than just duty to one's superior officer, but he could appreciate the Marine's protective instincts. He had felt that a confrontation between the two of them is evening would not advance his relationship with Sarina. Her current cool treatment was nearly unbearable when he felt admiration and desire so strong that it was difficult to control.

"So tell me about your father," he invited in an attempt to break the ice.

Sarina felt the familiar surge of hostility at his insistent prying, but she refused to speak. Two more floors and she could leave.

"I will find out the information one way or another, mein liebe," he continued casually. "It would be more pleasant to hear it from your lips."

The way he said it, she knew he was staring at her mouth. The memory of their kiss the night before surfaced and a blush threatened to creep up her cheeks. But still she said nothing. Only one more floor to go.

Isaac stepped in front of her. She looked down at the patterned carpet to avoid making eye contact. He placed two fingers on her chin to raise her head so that she had no choice but to acknowledge him. The door opened behind him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Ignoring me will not make me go away, and no amount of body guards will keep me from your side," he explained patiently, as if to a child. "I would like to hear from you how your father became a convicted criminal before I read the police report and case file"

Sarina's eyes blazed. "You nosy son of a bitch."

"My parentage has nothing to do with this," he admonished. "I ask out of courtesy, and expect a courteous answer."

Sarina knew that he would let her out of the elevator without answering him, so she growled, "Ever seen Con Air?"

Isaac just looked at her patiently, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Well, my dad is Nicolas Cage, except instead of murder, he was just charged with aggravated assault, so he was sentenced to 4 years," she elaborated.

Isaac knew there was something important she was leaving out, so he just waited.

Sarina sighed furiously. "It was in my defense, ok? My dad had taken me out for my 21st birthday, and some jerk—who had a long list of sexual harassment charges—tried to slip a roofie into my drink after I'd rejected his advances."

Range boiled up from Isaac's gut, and he knew that as soon as he read the report and court case, this unknown scumbag would have only minutes to live. True to his code of honor, he stepped aside and let her past. She marched by, furious with herself for caving to his demands as much as she was with him for demanding.

In parting, he called after her, "I suppose you will not be swimming tonight."

She stopped, her free hand curling into a tight fist at her side. Without turning around she answered, "I swim every night, regardless of weather or company." Then she turned to glare at him. "I should warn you that if you keep stalking me, we are going to have a _lot_ of company."

Isaac just smiled as she stormed away. The expression felt so strange on his face since he hadn't even attempted a smile in the last 500 years. Yet her moods and tantrums brought an impish grin to his face with ease.

Sarina closed the door to her apartment with a silent curse. She felt so stupid. She should have kept Mark with her. Something deep inside her told her that Isaac would wait by the pool all night for her.

Well, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. She'd go for a late night swim tonight, and leave him freezing on the roof for a few hours. But what could she do to kill time? Then she remembered: Dinner.

The chemo therapy robbed her of appetite, so some days it was a struggle to remember to eat. Tonight, however, she had an excuse to really go all out in the kitchen. Pesto fettuccine and lamb balls it would be. Feeling very satisfied with the choice of her meal, she opened a small bottle of white wine for herself and put on her favorite Igor Stravinsky CD.

She took great pleasure in mixing the ground lamb, rosemary, sautéed onion, and grated cheese with her bare hands. She lined up the formed meat balls in a glass dish and popped them into the oven. For the pesto, she used some of the basil from the counter-top hydroponics garden her father had given her via Uncle Mark the first year he was incarcerated. In a food processor she mixed in pine nuts and walnuts, a healthy amount of cream, garlic and a handful of frozen spinach, to make sure it was good and green.

After the food processor had throughly blended everything, she poured the mixture into a pot to heat it up. Leaving it on low heat, she prepared the noodles. The smell of the lamb balls was filling her apartment, savory and delicious. She strained the noodles and forked some onto a plate. Then she elegantly spread the sauce over them. She pulled out the meat and arranged two balls in the center of the fettuccine. Finally, she sprinkled a light dusting of Parmesan cheese over her dinner.

An outsider might have seen loneliness in the meticulous preparation and presentation of the dinner, but Sarina was far from lonely. As an only child with a traveling Marine for a father, she had learned at a young age how to be content with her own company, and her mother had instilled an appreciation for the simple, little things life had to offer. While a delicious dinner would have been pleasant to spend with a trusted companion, having a few peaceful hours free from tourists, Marines, and Isaac was infinitely more enjoyable this evening.

Sarina ate slowly, savoring the Greek flavors of her meal and the passionate notes of Scheherezade. After she cleaned the dishes and put away the leftovers, she changed into her bathing suit. This time she wore a red one-piece with a matching red swimming cap. She slipped on the light mesh bathing robe for modesty's sake and a pair of sandals. With a deep breath and towel in hand, she ventured upstairs to the rooftop pool.

Isaac wasn't there. She was surprised and a little disappointed. After all, she had gone to great lengths to center herself for his arrogant remarks. Either way, she had the pool to herself. She set aside her robe and towel, kicked off her sandals, and recklessly jumped into the pool.

Isaac had been monitoring his lifemate all through dinner. He admired her efficiency and confidence, her absolute acceptance of herself and her situation. Now he hovered in mist form over the pool, marveling at Sarnia's lithe body slipping through the water. He sensed her longing for saltwater, even as she enjoyed the smooth, cooling feeling of the pool water against her skin.

He wanted to feel her skin. The few times he'd brushed her cheek or jaw only made him want to touch the rest of her, to memorize every curve and hollow. He wanted to enjoy those curves as they swelled with health, to run his fingers through her real hair, long and thick. Most of all, he craved her taste. He was afraid to indulge now because she was so slight, but if only he could convince her to let him heal her...

He materialized in a lounge chair, casually reclining as he continued to watch Sarina swim. He wore simple black swim trunks, and left his muscular chest and stomach exposed the the evening air. She smoothly swam to the edge of the pool, ducked under the water, turned, and pushed off the wall. She kicked like a dolphin to get the most distance. When she broke the surface again, she caught sight of Isaac. She paused and treaded water.

"Oh," she said dryly. "It's you."

"Delightful to see you, as well," Isaac replied with a nod.

"Delight isn't the word I would use," Sarina retorted as she leisurely stroked towards the shallow end of the pool. Isaac just smiled permissively and said nothing. Uncomfortable with the silence, she stood resolutely. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend," she commented casually.

"I am not looking for a girlfriend," he replied evenly.

"I'm certainly not in the market for a fling or an affair," she scowled.

"Nor am I," he agreed. "Fortunately."

She finally demanded, "Then what do you want?"

Isaac took his time to sit up, swing his legs off the lounge chair, and lean forward to stare at her intently. "You," he said with conviction so sincere that Sarina took an involuntary step backwards. "Just you. With me. And perhaps a castle somewhere deep in the forests of Germany to share."

She squared her shoulders resolutely and scolded, "No. Bad playboy millionaire."

Isaac laughed. He didn't mean to, but being treated like...like a wayward Bruce Wayne was hilarious, and perhaps a touch ironic.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he replied as he desperately tried to control his expression. "You are simply adorable when you try to reprimand me."

"I'm not trying to be adorable," she fumed, "I'm trying to get you to shove off before I quite literally call in the Marines."

Isaac chuckled again, but this time there was no humor in it. "_Mein liebe_, the entire Marine core could not keep me from your side, and many men would be hurt should you try to put them between us."

Exasperated, Sarina hit the water with her fist. "Then how do I make you go away?"

"There is nothing you can do. I will never leave you," he said as he stood, the motion smooth and elegant. "I will court you, sweep you off your feet," he continued as he approached the pool, his voice deep, mesmerizing, seductive. He stood at the edge of the pool, looming intense, passionate, and impossibly masculine.

The blue radiance from the pool lights under the rippling water played over his toned muscles in a way that made Sarina's breath catch in her throat. He was getting too close, too quick. She couldn't move, wasn't sure she even wanted to move anymore.

"I want to kiss away every tear and make love to you all night long." He crouched at the edge of the tile to look Sarina in the eye. "I want to spend eternity together completely, irrevocably in love."

"N-no pressure," she muttered, overwhelmed by his sexual intensity. She tried to get mad again. He was easier to keep at arms length if there was anger between them.

Isaac smiled. "None at all. I am a very patient man."

"You're a very deluded man, if you think any of what you just said will happen. If you haven't forgotten," she reached up and snapped the edge of her swimming cap, "I have cancer! And my odds are still 50-50. So even if you somehow manage to romance me, there's no guarantee I'll even make it past Christmas."

Isaac's brilliant green eyes swept over the dome of her head and Sarina could see on his face the ache it caused. Swiftly and without a splash, he slipped into the water. He was suddenly in front of her. She refused to back up and steeled herself for another round in this battle of wits, one where he would undoubtedly use his good looks to cheat. Isaac smiled at her thought, his eyes warming from cold emeralds to brilliant spring green.

"If you would allow me," he murmured softly. He reached up and gently pealed the swimming cap from her head. She repressed a shudder. She told herself it was impossible for that brush of his fingers to send shivers down her spine and to her toes. Then he actually ran his hand over her bald scalp. His palm was hot as he cupped the back of her head and tilted her face up towards his. "I could heal you," he whispered. "And make your hair grow again, long and black as the night."

Her heart pounded at the implications of his words. As a natural healer, she'd always wondered if someone somewhere else in the world could take away her malady. To be whole again, what a terrible temptation he offered. To eat, drink, run...swim again. To not have to carefully conceal her fatigue, depression, and pain from her father and his Marine buddies. To have hair that was her own again, to brush it on her own head, not a manikin's. For a moment, she was transfixed by the simple posibility of being healthy.

Isaac took advantage of her stunned state, he bent his head and kissed her. Electricity arched between them. Sarina didn't realize he had wrapped his arms around her until her knees gave out and he caught her. As he clutched her to him she could feel every one of his hardened muscles, and then some. Her heart raced. His kiss was deep, passionate, insistent. She barely had space to breath between one kiss and the next. His teeth tugged on her lower lip, and she parted her lips slightly. He didn't plunge his tongue into her mouth as previous partners had, but tenderly teased with longer, deeper kisses.

Her taste was addicting. He wanted to claim her, to make her forever his. Only his fear for her fragile health kept the beast in check. But still, even though he was being careful, he was balancing on the edge of control. After hundreds of years in a void of light, she was the sun, moon, and stars to him.

Sarina didn't know how long they'd been shamelessly making out in the pool, but slowly, her sense of self preservation surfaced. He really was trying to sweep her off her feet, but she couldn't let him. She was not going to be the silly girl falling for the tall dark stranger. Her parents had raised her better than to be the heroine of a trashy novel. More than anything, his intensity scared her. No one should be able to kiss like that after only two non-dates. Like she was the only thing in the world that was good, the only person who meant anything to him.

In one swift motion, she twisted in his arms and ducked under the water. Panic and adrenalin fueling her, she swam underwater to the pool wall where she almost leaped out of the water. She raced over to grab her robe and sandals, not bothering to put them on. Her only thought was to get to the safety of her apartment.

Suddenly, Isaac was in front of her. Just like the night before. Her heart stuttered at the thought of what information she would have to bargain to get past him.

"_Mein liebe_, please don't go," he said softly.

"I have to get away from you," she insisted, her voice huskier than she intended. She focused her eyes over his shoulder so she wouldn't stare at his perfect physique.

"Why?" he asked. "Am I repulsive to you?"

Sarina snorted. "Don't fish for compliments. You're just...too much. I can't believe someone who looks like you, who has all the money you claim to have, would have the slightest interest in someone like me. Unless of course, you're trying to con me."

"Perish the thought," he replied. "I only want to alleviate your pain."

"Life is pain," she quoted from her favorite movie. "Anyone who says otherwise is selling something. Now let me by."

His eyes sparkled mischievously, but he stepped to the side with a small bow. "As you wish."

Sarina glared at him for using those words, but walked haughtily by. Then Isaac caught her wrist in a gentle but unbreakable wrist. She refused to look at him, but stood with her am sticking out behind her awkwardly.

"Would you allow me to heal you?" he asked.

Sarina sighed. More than anything, she wanted to be whole. She'd lived for almost a year now just by sheer willpower, pushing aside pain, nausea, depression, fatigue, and hopelessness.

"Do not ask me to endure your suffering," Isaac pleaded. She could hear the genuine ache in his voice. "I can feel it in you. I give you my word I will do nothing but take away the cancer."

The temptation was too great. Hope was too strong. She didn't know how she would explain it to her doctors or her father, but she'd faced death too long to not jump at life. She took a deep breath and replied, "Alright. Heal me."

* * *

Longer than usual, but I couldn't find a good stoping point until this little cliff-hanger. Yes that's right, hate me. ^_^ Just post a comment/review about it. I'll try to have a new chapter this weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

Before Sarina could say anything else, Isaac swept her into his arms and ran with blurring speed to her apartment. He was through the door and in her room before she could catch her breath. He gently set her on her bed. Curiously, her bathing suit was dry.

Sarina suddenly felt very vulnerable lying on her back. Isaac towered over her, his face solemn and filled with purpose. He seemed to know that he was being intimidating, because he smiled reassuringly and knelt beside the bed.

"How do you do it?" she asked nervously.

"My spirit will leave my body and enter yours," he answered. "This will not hurt but you may feel warm spots. That will only be me at work."

"The cancer...it can't hurt you?" she asked, true concern for his wellbeing coloring her voice.

"No. I will be as light burning the cancer cells away and repairing the damage to your body," he replied softly.

"So, it's like laser therapy?"

"Similar, I suppose, only much more effective." Isaac smiled. His hand reached up to sooth her worried brow. "Just relax. Close your eyes. Do not move. Think peaceful thoughts."

Sarina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Isaac also took a deep breath and let his body fall away. He entered her body and surveyed the damage. His heart clenched and he retreated back to his own body. Tears welled up in his eyes. He could feel the scars from the surgical removal of the tumors. The cancer had nearly destroyed her immune system, allowing bacteria and viruses to attack her internal organs. The chemotherapy had destroyed much of malignant cells and kept the outside pathogens at bay, but had also harmed her liver, scarred her insides, and of course robbed her of every hair on her body.

Calling on the discipline cultivated over centuries of emotionless existence, Isaac reentered her body and began the long work of destroying the cancer and healing soft tissues. He took his time, examining every corner of her blood stream, every wrinkle in her organs. He made certain that not a single mutated cell was left in her body. He broke down the remaining toxins in her body so that her kidneys could easily remove them from her blood stream.

Finally, he reinvigorated the hair follicles on her scalp. He was too week to force any hair growth, and her doctor would be suspicious if she regrew her hair in such a short time, but just starting the process was a gift he couldn't resist giving. He retreated from her body and sagged against the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Isaac asked.

Sarina took a quick inventory and replied, "Better. I feel less...fractured."

"Good," he sighed. "I was able to remove the cancer."

"Really?" she gasped, unable to to stop her heart leaping in joy. "You mean I'm in remission?"

"You are cured," he insisted. "I made certain not a single mutated cell remains in your body."

Sarina gripped his hand, her dark skin flushed with health contrasting with his pale skin.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

Her concern turned his heart over. He smiled, his eyes weary but warm. "Yes, _meine liebe_, I am fine."

Sarina sat up and looked him over. "You look like hell. Maybe you should lay down for a few minutes before you go back to your apartment."

He chuckled. "So quick to throw me out?"

She pursed her lips in annoyance. "I'm grateful and all—truly I am—but there is no way you're staying the night."

"Fair enough," Isaac grunted as he stood up. "Still, a _thank you_ would be appropriate, and pleasant to hear."

She smiled crookedly, but dutifully said, "Thank you very much."

"You are most welcome, _mein liebe,"_ he returned with a gracious nod.

Slightly irked by his superior attitude, she asked, "What does '_mein liebe_' mean anyway?"

"My love," he said honestly.

"All this time you've been calling me your love?" she demanded incredulously. He nodded again. "But you don't even know me!"

"I know enough," he replied simply.

"Don't start," she warned. "I'm trying not to remember your partiality to eavesdropping on my privet thoughts."

"I do exercise some discretion," he defended himself.

"Then discreetly forget to remind me how much you really know, and I'll discreetly forget that I should call uncle Mark to have you escorted from my apartment," she retorted.

"You only need ask me to leave," Isaac admonished. "I have no desire to make you uncomfortable."

"Would you really leave?" Sarina demanded. "Or would you extort more information from me before your departure?"

Isaac was starting to get irritated with her constant lack of faith in him. Had he not just proven his honor, his devotion, his restraint to her?

"I will leave now," he replied coolly and left the bedroom. He was just turning the knob on the front door when he felt a small hand slip into the crook of his elbow.

"I'm sorry, that was extremely rude," she apologized softly. "You don't have to go just yet. You still look very pale—would you like a cup of tea?"

That easily, his heart melted. He turned around to gaze into her beautiful topaz eyes. "No, but thank you for your concern."

"You just cured my cancer—isn't there anything I can offer you?" she pleaded.

Isaac chuckled at the ideas that sprang to mind. Sarina's eyes went wide as she realized how her question had come across, and she blushed furiously. "No, _mein liebe_, I do not think it is wise for you to offer anything this evening. I have much work to do before tomorrow, and I need sustenance before I begin."

"I have some leftover lamb balls," she muttered half heartedly.

"Again, thank you, but no, I do not eat meat," he replied. She looked so sad that he couldn't resist brushing her silky cheek with the back of his hand. "Do not fear, I will be back tomorrow evening."

"So I'm stuck with you now?" she asked ruefully.

"You always were," he replied softly. He brushed a kiss on her forehead. "Tomorrow night, _mein liebe, mein herz, mein seele_."

"Tomorrow night," she sighed.

And then he was gone.

Sarina woke late the next morning. She looked at her alarm clock, surprised to see it was after ten. She usually didn't sleep that late on a weekday, much less a Friday. More surprising was the reason she woke: she was hungry! Not just the passing notion that she needed to eat, she was ravenous. Still in her pajamas, she went to raid her fridge.

Not surprising, there wasn't much. She never kept a lot of food on hand as a rule. No sense in over-stocking the fridge when she could be hospitalized at a moments notice. Normally for breakfast, she had a cup of tea and half a muffin. Obviously, that wouldn't cut it this morning. There was only one thing to do. She picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Los Angeles Morgue. You kill 'em, we chill 'em. How can I help you?" Mark's voice came through the phone.

"I'm looking for a lunch date," Sarina replied, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice, "but if all you have is cold cuts..."

"Little Sari, what's the occasion?" Mark crowed happily.

"No occasion. I'm just hungry."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," he promised.

After she hung up, she jumped in the shower. When she was done, she put on her most flattering pair of jeans, a black chamois and a low cut green top. She picked out a unremarkable wig, a simple black bob, and even had time to put on a little lip gloss and eyeliner.

Mark finally knocked on the door. She opened it and found him very sharply dressed for a impromptu lunch date. He wore un-torn black jeans, a red turtleneck shirt, and a Nautica windbreaker. His nut-brown hair was combed back and his gray eyes sparkled with too much caffeine. He scrutinized Sarina.

"You look...like your old self again," he said.

"I feel like my old self again," she beamed. "And I really am hungry."

"Then lets go," Mark replied.

The two of them took Mark's classic Camero to the nearest International House of Pancakes. Mark flashed his military ID and they were seated immediately. The waitress promptly took their orders, steak and eggs for Mark and Sarina ordered pancakes, hash browns, turkey sausages, toast and jam, and hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows.

After the waitress left, Mark asked, "Since when are you able to eat so much?"

"I told you," Sarina replied. "I'm hungry today."

"Don't you usually have a hard time just keeping food down?" he probed.

"Usually, but I think I'll be fine today," she insisted.

Mark scrutinized her face. "There's something different about you. I just can't put my finger on it."

Sarina couldn't hide a blush at the memory of Isaac healing her. It had been ridiculously intimate in her room, his essence traveling through her body.

"Okay, what was that?" Mark demanded.

"What was what?" she echoed.

"That blush. You blushed at something," he accused with good humor.

"It's nothing," she tried to dismiss it with a wave of her hand.

"Bull," he called. "That wasn't a _nothing_ blush—that was a _trouble_ blush."

"Seriously, it was nothing!"

"Come on!" he persisted. "Spit it out."

Sarina sighed exaggeratedly and took the easiest way out. "It was just a silly dream."

"What kind of dream?"

"A dreamy dream; I don't know! What sort of dreams do you have?" She threw up her hands in exasperations. Mark gave her a considering look, as if he might actually answer her. Quickly she cried, "Don't tell me—I don't want to know."

"Who was in this dream?" Mark asked.

"No one you know." _Just the guy you're under orders to keep away from me,_ she thought and her blush deepened. She glanced up at him and saw the gears in his mind putting the pieces together. He looked all too satisfied with his conclusion.

_Oh no!_ He thought she had dreamed of him. And not just any dream—a blush-worthy dream. And she had asked him out for breakfast. She almost groaned aloud. She would probably never live this down. Still, she consoled herself, at least he wouldn't pry any more.

Then their drinks came. Mark sipped his black coffee and she enjoyed her extra-marshmallow-y chocolate. She occupied herself with drinking the hot beverage carefully to avoid anymore awkward conversation.

Soon their food come. Mark watched in amazed silence as she ate 3 pancakes with fruit and whipped topping, 4 pieces of buttered toast with marmalade, a plate of hash browns, 4 turkey sausages, and three refills of her hot chocolate. Curiously, she didn't feel even the slightest bit nauseous or bloated. If anything, she was still hungry. Maybe she was truly cured. It certainly wouldn't take long to get her old curves back with an apatite like this.

"Where do you put it all?" he murmured in awe.

"I think my stomach has turned into a black hole," she confided. She just drained her last cup of chocolate when Mark's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered. Then his whole demeanor changed; his shoulders straightened as he came to attention. "Yessir... Yessir...we're on our way."

"Was that dad?" Sarina asked.

Mark nodded, his face bewildered. "Someone sprung him."

"You mean he's escaped?" she cried.

"No, I mean someone has legally cleared his name," he said. "He's waiting in Lancaster for us to pick him up. He said to bring him some fresh clothes."

Sarina sat stunned for a moment. Then she grabbed her purse, already half way out of her seat. "Lets go!"

Mark threw several twenty-dollar bills on the table and escorted Sarina out of the restaurant. She was in such a hurry to see her father free, she didn't really notice Mark's hand on the small of her back. They momentarily stopped at her apartment again so she could throw some of her father's old clothes in a duffel bag. Then they took off towards the state penitentiary.

The hour long drive seemed to take forever, but finally they made it. Mark hadn't stopped the car when Sarina jumped out and ran towards her father. He was waiting for them outside the compound in old inmate-issue clothing. She threw her arms around his neck and he responded with a gentle bear-hug, careful of his daughter's fragile body even as he lifted her off the ground.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream," she begged.

"No dream," Michael promised. "Very bizarre though."

"What happened?" Mark wanted to know.

"Some hotshot lawyer called this morning and said that Javier Brashears—the guy I put in the hospital for trying to drug you—had confessed to a judge a long list of crimes, including using drugs to seduce unwilling women. Sever court rulings were overturned this morning, including mine!" he explained.

"What about your lawyer? Didn't he have anything to say about this?" Mark demanded.

"He said that he'd received copies of everything, and that it's all legal and official. He wanted to know where I'd gotten such a high-powered attorney so fast, and he gave me a long lecture about not being off the hook for his legal fees and blah blah blah," Michael replied.

"Isaac," muttered Sarina under her breath.

"What was that pumpkin?" her father asked with another squeeze.

"Nothing. Come on, lets go home. You are coming home with me, right?" she looked up into his eyes hopefully.

"What I wouldn't give to hear those words," Mark sighed wistfully.

"There is no place I'd rather be," he assured her while he shot his subordinate a warning glare.

"Then change into some fresh clothes, and we'll go. Have you had lunch yet?" Sarina asked as she passed the duffel bag to her father.

"I wouldn't dignify the sludge they serve here by calling it _lunch_," Michael replied. He ducked into the Camero to change. Sarina and Mark turned their backs to give him some privacy. Very soon, Michael tapped on the glass to let them know he was done.

"First order of business," Michael said as Sarina and Mark climbed back into the car, "Is to get some cheeseburgers and shakes."

"To In-and-Out!" Mark cried as if he was sounding a charge. He gunned the engine and they took off.

* * *

So not much of a cliffhanger this time. I hope that has redeamed me at least a little bit. I recieved quite a few reviews--which I LOVE!!! So thank you everyone! I have big plans for the next few chapters, and some surprizes in store regarding Michael, Mark, and even Sarina's mother! But I won't give away any spoilers. I hope you enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

Sarina, Mark, and the newly freed Michael enjoyed a bottle of wine in the living room of Sarina's apartment. Michael hadn't had any alcohol since he'd been incarcerated, so he savored every sip. They ordered pizza for dinner, and just spent hours talking. They didn't talk about prison, or even anything meaningful or deep. It was just the comfortable chatter of people who are just happy to be together. Sarina lost all track of time as she outlined her ideas for a salt-water fish tank in her apartment, lamenting the fact that her 3rd-story status prohibited the weight of 50-gallon tanks.

Then there was a sharp but respectful tap at the door. Her heart stuttered for a moment, shocked out of her happy daze. She knew exactly who was behind the door, even before she got up from the sofa. When she cracked opened the door, Isaac stood on the other side.

"Not now," Sarina murmured.

"Then when?" Isaac returned just as softly.

"Just...not now," she hissed.

"You think to banish me from your life?" he asked archly.

"Pumpkin, who is it?" Michael Tobin called. Isaac could tell the older Marine was on the alert.

"No one," Sarina called and moved to close the door.

Isaac put his hand against the door, and Sarina couldn't shut it. "That is rather rude, considering," he said a little louder.

She sighed exaggeratedly, stepped back and opened the door so that both parties could see each other. "Dad, Mark, this is Isaac. Isaac, my father and my body guard. Nice to see you, Isaac. Goodnight." She closed the door again, but, again, it stopped when Isaac laid his hand on it.

"Is he bothering you?" Michael asked as he approached the door. Mark was right behind him.

"No, not really. I just can't avoid him since he's a legitimate tenant here," she replied as casually as possible. She tried to lean on the door to force it closed, but Isaac's single hand was keeping it propped open.

"Then perhaps I should meet our neighbor," Michael said without a trace of warmth on his voice.

Sarina knew she was in for it now. The last thing she needed was Isaac being all "_mein liebe_" in front of her father and Mark. Not to mention that his mere presence made her temperature jump a hundred degrees.

"I apologize if it seems like I am intruding, but Sarina and I made plans last night for this evening," Isaac said politely.

"You met with him last night?" Michael asked Sarina, his voice carefully neutral.

"We passed each other at the pool," Sarina muttered tightly. "I might have said something along the lines of 'see you later.' That's all."

"It certainly is later," Michael mused. "And if this is the gentleman who you've been telling me about, we'd best have a family discussion and iron things out once and for all."

Sarina groaned inwardly. She could predict how the night would go. Her father would test Isaac to see what sort of person he was, and Mark would do his best to be the intimidating brother. Isaac would coolly dismiss all the warning signs, thinking himself superior, and she'd be in even more of a pickle tomorrow.

"Please, come in," Michael invited in a tone that clearly was not inviting.

Isaac stepped over the threshold calmly, his green eyes glinting. Without a word to the men, Sarina marched back to the sofa and sat down resolutely. She reached for her wine glass and took a large swig. The men slowly filed into the living room behind her. Isaac sat on one side of her and Mark on the other. Michael took the couch across the way.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked politely.

"No, thank you," Isaac declined just as politely. "I do not drink."

Isaac casually probed Michael Tobin's mind, only to have it shut tight against him, much like a clam snapping closed. Curiously, Mark's and Sarina's minds also became suddenly and inexplicably shielded. He examined the barriers, but could not find a weak spot to exploit. Attempting to push through them would likely cause all three individuals tremendous pain. A tiny thread—more like the impression of a smell—linked all three shields back to Michael. Isaac had never seen a human psychic so talented. Even Falcon's lifemate had only been able to shield herself, not others. Prudently he decided to see how far talking would get him.

"I apologize again if I have intruded upon family time," Isaac reiterated.

"I curious as to your motives," Michael responded smoothly. "When my daughter first told me about you, I must admit I was concerned."

Isaac turned to smile winningly at Sarina, who scowled back at him. "I can only say that Sarina's wit has caught my attention as nothing has in many years. I admire her artwork and her courage. When I met her, she seemed very much alone, and I wanted very much to change that."

"Thanks to you, she has her family back," Michael commented casually, but there was no mistaking the underlying message that he knew Isaac was responsible for his quick release from prison. "We may even be moving out of state, now, as California no longer suits me."

This was the first Sarina ever heard of her father's desire to relocate, but she kept her features cool, professional, as if it was an old game of "You Can't Make Me Smile." Her family used to play that game around the dinner table, taking turns telling outrageous tales, and sometimes all out lies to get the other family members to crack a smile first. Now those old skills came in handy as she naturally deferred to her father.

"I have never been partial to the Los Angeles area, myself," Isaac said smoothly. "I prefer the rural, heavily forested areas of the world."

"In that we differ," Michael responded with a easy smile. "Our family has always loved the oceans. I don't think we could live without the tides to set our watches by."

"To each their own," Isaac nodded graciously. Michael nodded his agreement to the old proverb.

Isaac was beginning to get an impression through the shield covering Michael's mind. Protectiveness towards his daughter. Isaac also could tell that Michael was letting this information out deliberately, waiting for a response. He sent a return message that reflected Michael's devotion, but he added the potential for a more intimate love between himself and Sarina.

Michael responded with passionate, self-sacrificing, all encompassing dedication to her safety, with not a single qualm for any violence it may take to ensure her wellbeing. Isaac also caught some of the memories from the incident that had lead to Michael's incarceration. A suave looking Latino man with a toothy smile. Isaac saw the moment Michael had seen the strange man pass his hand over Sarina's glass of beer and the two small white tablets fall from under his thumb into the golden liquid. Michael had quickly and soundly beaten the man, not turning it into a rowdy brawl, but keeping it as quiet as possible, the message as simple as possible.

Isaac responded with his implacable will, edged with the crackle of his immense power. He wanted Michael to know that he was more than capable of protecting Sarina. So far he had not received the impression of disapproval, but he knew he could only sense what Michael wanted him to know.

Sarina and Mark exchanged a quick glance. They both got the feeling that the other two men were somehow speaking silently to one another, testing each other somehow. Mark moved to lay his hand on the back of the sofa, right behind Sarina's shoulders. He didn't actually touch her, but Isaac's gaze swung around to pin Mark with his cold stare. There was a blatant dare in the set of his mouth, and it shocked Sarina so that she leaned away from him and into Mark.

Mark's arm dropped protectively over Sarina's shoulder. Danger seemed to sizzle in the air. Isaac suddenly became darker, harder, sharper. The demon inside roared for blood. How dare another man touch his lifemate. How dare she seek comfort in another's arms.

Michael stood up, all impressions disappeared from the barriers guarding his mind. "I think we're done here," he said in a voice that left no room for argument.

Isaac slowly took a deep breath and calmed the inner beast. He told himself that they were just friends, their overly familiar reaction caused by his ominous mood swing. The fact that he couldn't read anyone's mind only added to his frustration. There was no way to know if Mark was merely doing his duty to protect Sarina, or if the young Marine was harboring inappropriate feelings towards his lifemate.

"You are right," Isaac said as he stood. He extended a hand and Michael responded with a very firm, short handshake. Michael showed Isaac to the door. Just before Isaac left, he turned to Sarina's father and said softly, "I apologize for frightening your daughter, but she is very important to me. While I would not wish to separate you from her again, understand that I cannot leave her."

"I understand more than you know," Michael replied. "But you need to understand that Sarina has been through hell already, and I will not allow her to be terrorized by your dark nature, regardless of the nobility of your intentions. You felt a taste of my power tonight. Know that if I deem it necessary for her safety, I will remove Sarina and you will not be able to track her, so do not push her. Or me."

"You admit your abilities easily," observed Isaac. "But I think you underestimate mine."

"She is the only thing in the world that means anything," Michael said.

"In that we agree."

"Then you owe her the truth," he persisted. "And what you don't tell her, I will."

"I appreciate your consideration of my...unique dilemma. Hopefully, our future will hold more understanding for everyone involved," Isaac graciously bowed. Michael seemed unimpressed. Casually, Isaac walked down the hall to the elevator. The Marine watched as the dark man punched the button, entered the car, and the doors closed behind him. Finally Michael shut the front door.

"What was that about?" Mark asked as soon as Michael came back to the living room.

Michael sighed heavily. "Trouble."

"Dad, seriously, what just happened?" Sarina demanded.

"Your...friend," Michael slowly explained as he sank back into the recliner, "is not...human."

"He's an outsider?" Mark pounced on the fact.

"Like your old company in the Marines?" Sarina asked.

"No, the company was a mixture of odd-bloods, diluted and crossed jaguars, lycans, mages and such. They were different from the rest of the soldiers. The government saw that. They didn't know or care _what_ made them different, but put them under my command. I daresay I was the closest thing to a pureblood in the whole core, and that's what made it possible for me to unite that motley crew." Michael ran his fingers through his short blond hair. "No, this Isaac is not like the old company at all."

"Then what is he?" Mark growled.

"He's one of the night hunters," the older marine said simply. "He is the purest blood out there. Original. Untainted. Old. I'd hazard a guess that he was around for the crusades."

Mark cursed. Sarina just sat quietly absorbing all this information. Her father had never spoken so openly about the heritage of the men he commanded, but somehow she had always known. It wasn't the sort of thing you mentioned frivolously in this day and age. Still, there had been hints and clues. Special assignments. Impossible odds. Suicide missions they had miraculously survived. The men her father commanded had skills beyond normal soldiers.

Her eyes glanced at Mark, brooding about this newcomer. Strong, warm, comical Mark. Was he a jaguar? It didn't matter. Her father suspected Isaac to be a night hunter. Nothing was more important than that. Or more frightening.

She'd heard stories as a child of all the fantastic creatures that hid from the bright day and dined on the blood of the innocent. Warriors of the moonless nights, destroying evil wherever it lurked, occasionally turning evil themselves.. It made sense, now that she thought about it, why Isaac hadn't stayed for dinner and how he materialized out of thin air. The stories she'd heard had always been of cold, unfeeling beings of immense power. He couldn't be _bad_ though. He had healed her of cancer, after all.

Her great-great-grandmother had been marked by a night hunter, so the family legend went. Every female since had carried it. Her mother had bore the mark. Sarina knew she had the same tattoo-like image, faint though it was, she'd seen it on her back in the bathroom mirror.

Was the mark important? Did Isaac somehow know about it? Had it attracted him some how? Or did it mean she belonged to a different night hunter, and would he be mad when he discovered it?

Her thoughts didn't make sense. They wouldn't line up or order themselves coherently.

"Dad, I'm going swimming," she said, almost absently.

"No way, Sari," Mark interjected. "You're not leaving this apartment."

She gave him a cool look. "This is _my_ home and _my_ life. I'll do exactly what I please, thank you very much."

"Are you sure that is wise, pumpkin?" her father asked. "This night hunter seems to have a particular interest in you."

"He hasn't hurt me yet," she replied logically. "And I just need to clear my head. Twenty minutes, max."

"I'll come with you," Mark said and sprang to his feet.

_Definitely jaguar_, Sarina thought. She stood up and tried her hardest to look down her nose at Mark, not an easy feat, considering he was a full foot taller than she. "I can't relax with you hovering over the pool. I won't be long." Without waiting for a response, she walked to her bedroom to change.

She changed into a green swimsuit, and just to make sure her birthmark was covered, she slipped on a rash guard shirt over her tankini. She grabbed a towel and just walked out of the apartment, letting the two men stew with their own thoughts.

A light breeze cooled her skin the moment she stepped onto the roof. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nothing had really changed. Her world had been turned upside down three nights ago when Isaac came into her life, she just hadn't acknowledged it until now. Suspicions were confirmed, but that wasn't earth-shattering. Isaac had admitted within the first hour of knowing her that he was psychic. There was no reason to assume she was in any kind of imminent danger from Isaac. If he wanted to hurt her, he wouldn't have healed her. Naturally her father was concerned because Isaac was so old, so powerful. Mark was just being overprotective and silly. She would go on being who and what she was. There was nothing more to worry about.

She slipped into the water and leisurely swam a few laps around the small pool. Then she floated in the middle, looking up at the stars. She knew the moment he appeared sitting on the edge of the lounge chair.

"My father doesn't think you are human. He says you're very old and very powerful," she said casually as she continued to float. "Mark thinks your dangerous."

"I am," Isaac replied softly. He still couldn't probe her mind. Apparently Michael's power had quite a range.

"So the true question is why you are interested by little me," she mused aloud. "I can't be the first cancer patient you've seen so it isn't the plight of my condition. I can't be the first peddler you've patronized. And we both know it isn't my stunning good looks."

"You are the other half of my soul," he said softly.

"How do you know?" she asked curiously.

"I have searched through the centuries for you. You have restored colors to my eyes, feelings to my heart, life to my soul. You are the only woman in the world for me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Have you even tried dating another woman?" she persisted, still floating lazily on her back.

"...No," he finally admitted.

"Then how do you know I'm the only one you could possibly ever care for?"

"My people only have one true match. They are bound together by unseen forces, destiny, karma, God. What ever you want to call it," he explained patiently. "The males of my people loose the ability to see colors or feel emotions. When he meets his lifemate, she restores all that was lost and more. There is no mistake."

"But do you even try to take that gift of color and feeling and find a different mate?" she demanded. She finally stood up and faced Isaac. "I guess what I'm asking is if there's any way for you to choose someone else?"

"You do not want me," Isaac stated, his face serene but his heart aching at the thought.

"You're fishing for compliments again," she warned with a small smile and a little splash in his direction. That little smile was all it took to melt his insides. "You've removed the cancer, so I guess I owe you my life. And I'm pretty sure you're responsible for my father's freedom. It seems that I'm so in debt to you that.." She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. "I'm afraid of what it might take to pay the bill."

Isaac thought his heart might give out on him. Here stood his lifemate, bravely facing an unknown suitor with honor. His respect and awe for her nearly exploded in his chest. She was unique, special. He'd heard stories of other Carpathian lifemates fighting tooth and nail against the inevitable, but never did he of anything like Sarina Tobin.

"There is no bill," he assured her softly. "If you had been healthy and whole, with your family intact, my request of you would still be the same. I need you in my life, in my arms, my mind, heart and soul. Without you, I would descend into the void."

She nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Is there a deadline?"

It was Isaac's turn to hesitate. Finally he answered, "I fear it is almost too late, The darkness is strong in me, and while you give me hope, I am not yet anchored by your light."

"What would it take to anchor you?" she asked.

Isaac shook his head. "Do not ask for answers you are not ready to understand."

"How do you know I'm not ready?" Sarina demanded indignantly.

He didn't have a response. He simply stood and walked to the railing at the edge of the roof, looking out over the bright night in Santa Monica. He heard the water slosh as Sarina left the pool. Her damp hand touched his arm and he turned to look at her. He couldn't help himself.

"Tell me," she said softly.

"A blood exchange," he said starkly, "and the ritual binding words."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she mused.

Isaac chuckled. "The exchange would not be. But the words would bind us together and make it difficult for us to be apart."

"Difficult?"

"You would miss me, to the point of grief," he clarified. "And it would be nearly impossible to resist the urges of our bodies."

"Like that's a picnic now," she muttered. She still couldn't stare at him too long without salivating. Erotic images danced in her mind and it took every ounce of willpower to keep her hands from trailing down his arms.

Isaac might not be able to know her thoughts, but her face spoke volumes. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her mouth to his. He hesitated only a moment before he kissed her softly. She melted instantly into his arms, her lips parting, her breath stalling in her lungs. It was so magical, the way his lips gently tugged on hers.

"Do it," she whispered. "Before I chicken out."

Isaac didn't need further urging. He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her throat. His tongue stroked her pulse once before his teeth sank deep into her flesh. She expected pain, but the pleasure that followed nearly made her faint. It was intense, erotic, mind numbing. He couldn't believe her taste. It was spicy, sweet, addicting. He barely managed to pull back, sealing the holes but leaving a hickey-like mark.

He was concerned because he couldn't cloud her mind for the act, but he couldn't stop himself. With one long, sharp fingernail, he slashed his pectoral muscle over his heart and pressed her mouth to the wound. She willingly lapped at the blood, even without a compulsion. His knees almost gave out as her mouth moved against his flesh. The beast rose as his blood caught fire. Lust, desire, need slammed into him. Desperately, he pushed her away as soon as the exchange had been made.

She gasped as she staggered back. Her expression was wounded, even as she licked her lips. His heart somersaulted and he reached for her. She came to him willingly, just to lean her head against his chest. Isaac wished he could express the emotions that were storming through him, but the words "thank you" seemed to shallow for what she had just done.

Sarina didn't want or need to say anything. The exchange had been unbelievably erotic. Now she felt so safe in his arms. Finally she sighed. "Mark will be coming after me if I don't get back soon. He might take a swing at you if he found us like this."

"He would not connect," Isaac assured her.

"It's not you I'm worried about," she giggled. "But I should be going. Tomorrow evening?"

He hugged her close one more time before he let her go. "As you wish."

* * *

I hope you appriciate how difficult NOT to end this on another cliffhanger. And I hope you give me some feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

_Numerous apologies for taking so long with this chapter. (Life has not been kind--or even grudgingly decent--to me lately.) But at least I have this chapter now. Hopefully my next chapter will be more forthcoming. Gratitude to everyone who is still interested in this story. 333_

* * *

When Sarina slipped back into her apartment, her father was waiting for her.

"I sent Mark home," Michael said. "I think we need to talk."

She sat down on the sofa and looked at her father. She couldn't read his expression. "What's wrong, dad?"

"Do you know why Isaac is interested in you?" he started.

"He said that I'm his lifemate," she said with a blush. "That I restored colors and feelings to him."

Michael nodded. "Is this what you want?"

Sarina took a moment before replying. "Dad, he healed my cancer."

Michael's head shot up, his eyes hopeful. "Really? You're cured?"

"Yes. I mean, I haven't gone in for any tests to confirm it yet, but I feel better, and I've been as hungry as a whale lately." She shifted restlessly. "I'm actually a little afraid of what might happen if I don't...accept him. I owe him so much, but I don't know if I can...love him."

Her father nodded again. "It's your choice. I can't make it for you, Mark can't make it for you. Even Isaac can't make it for you. If you want this, I will support you. And if you decide this isn't for you, I will still support your decision, and move heaven and earth to help you."

"I'm not sure I've made a decision yet," she hedged. "I'm not sure I even know enough about him. All I'm certain of is that he needs me."

"I can only offer what knowledge my father told me," he offered. "From what little I know of the night hunters, they're a dying species. Their numbers have been dwindling for the last millennium—but don't think you're doing a noble thing by sacrificing yourself for the good of his race. Those night hunters are more trouble than they're worth. They think they're all powerful, but they hold the capacity for some of the worst kinds of evil: Vampire."

"What do you mean?"

Michael sighed. "Their blood is so powerful that when it goes bad, it goes really bad. They try to cover up the crimes the vampires commit, but a lot of people die before they get around to it. Many of the surviving mages even blame the night hunters for Xavier."

Sarina shivered at the mention of the dark mage's name. He'd been a ghost haunting every mage-born, no matter how powerful, for centuries. "Why?" she whispered.

"In Xavier's quest to live forever, he learned that blood exchanges with powerful lines would change him into a night hunter, but he was already corrupt and turned vampire almost instantly. The night hunter's naturally powerful blood amplified his own dark abilities, turning him into the very devil himself," Michael explained. "Some believe if the night hunters had kept better tabs on their own resources, they could have prevented Xavier's...turn for the worse."

She went very still. "Blood exchanges?" she repeated. "Can these exchanges work on anyone?"

Michael's eyes jumped to the hickey mark on her neck that he'd tactfully ignored until tis moment. He silently cursed himself for only putting a mental shield and not a physical shield around his daughter. "I honestly don't know," he replied. "But you have mage blood from my side of the family, and you have a lot of your mother in you. She was more powerful than anyone I'd ever met." He went still, remembering the woman he fell in love with.

Sarina's heart ached at the mention of her mother. She didn't think about her often, but she couldn't escape catching a glimpse of her in the mirror now and then.

_Mein liebe, you are troubled,_ Isaac's voice filled her mind. _I shall come to you._

"No!" Sarina cried aloud.

"No what?" Michael asked, shocked out of his memories.

_I am only speaking to you, mein liebe,_ Isaac whispered. _Now that we have a blood connection, it is easy to do so, even with your father trying to shield you._

"Nothing, just lost in thought," Sarina covered. _I'm starting to think you're more trouble than your worth._

_Only starting?_ He chuckled. _Why are you so sad?_

_My father just mentioned my mom. I don't suppose someone like _you_ ever had a mother,_ she bated him.

_I had a wonderful mother. Kind, generous, she also had a gift for art, although she was a weaver, not a painter,_ Isaac replied, completely unperturbed. _I lost her when my father was murdered by a vampire._

_If your father was the one murdered, why did your mother die?_ Sarina wondered.

_The bond between lifemates is so strong that one rarely survives the passing of the other for long,_ he explained.

_So she died of a broken heart,_ she sighed in his mind. Out loud, she declared, "I need to sleep on all this so I'm going to bed. It's been a long, _long_ day." She stood and kissed her father on the forehead.

"Alright, pumpkin," Michael consented. "I'll pull out the futon when I'm ready."

"Don't stay up watching late night TV," she mock-scolded.

"Are you kidding? This is the first opportunity I've had to watch late night TV in 3 and a half years!" he cried. "Of course I'm going to stay up."

"Fine, I'll let you slide this once, but don't get used to it," she smiled. "Remember, my house my rules."

"Tyrant," he laughed.

"Night, dad."

"Night, pumpkin. Semper fi," he called as she walked into her room.

"Semper fi," she called back. She closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. _Now I don't have to worry about two conversations at once._

_If you open your window, we could have a more _intimate_ conversation,_ Isaac suggested seductively.

_Where's the weather cocking?_ she shot back with a mental image of sealing all the windows.

_Ouch._ She could hear his wince in his voice. _Are you really going to leave your lifemate out in the cold sea mist?_

_If you're so cold, why don't you go to your apartment and turn on the heater?_ she retorted.

_Your love is the only thing that will truly warm my heart,_ he whispered, his mental voice husky with lust.

Sarina laughed softly. _You are too cheesy. How can I take you seriously when you use lines like that?_

_I was not trying to be humorous,_ Isaac pouted. He sounded like a little boy who's prank had gone awry. She laughed again as she changed into her uber-comfy dolphin-print pajamas.

_Yet you do it so effortlessly,_ she teased. _I may not be resisting your advances, but I'm not about to roll over on my back. You are going to have to work for a few things._

Isaac snorted. _As if curing your cancer and freeing your father were not enough._

_I never said they weren't,_ she said. _That was a wonderful way to get your foot in the proverbial door. We're friends. Now, I want to be romanced._

_Romanced? _He repeated. _How so?_

_You know,_ she said generally,_ Flowers, chocolate, poetry. That sort of thing. I'm sure the art of romancing hasn't changed in the last few centuries._

_You are quite demanding,_ he replied. _But I may be able to accommodate your requests. After all, I am independently wealthy, so a few rare orchids and some Swiss confections should not be difficult to obtain._

_Oh sure,make me sound like a gold digger. S_he sent the impression of rolling her eyes.

_How is it you are comfortable speaking in this manor? I find it interesting that this does not frighten you, _Isaac inquired.

Sarina's mind went still, and she didn't respond for a long time. Finally she said, _My mother and I used to talk like this._

_Would you tell me about her?_ Isaac asked. _She sounds like an incredible woman._

_I'd rather not,_ she said softly, hesitantly. _I...it's still hard to think about her. I miss her very much._

Isaac could hear the ache in her voice and decided not to push. _Another time, _mein liebe. _For now, sleep and dream only of me._

_Corn ball,_she accused as she drifted off to sleep under his suggestion.

* * *

"Sarina! Sarina!"

Sarina clawed her way through foggy layers of sleep. She felt smothered by thick fatigue, reluctant to wake up.

"If you don't come out, I'm coming in," her father warned. He sounded serious, worried even.

"Coming," she croaked. She rolled out of bed and fell onto the dark green carpet. She literally crawled over to the door and used the door knob to stand before finally unlocking and opening it. "Whassa madder?" she grumbled.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon," Michael said. "You've never slept this late."

"Really? It's that late? I feel like I use a few more hours," she replied as she scrubbed her eyes.

"Should we go to the doctor?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"No! No, dad, I'll be fine," she reassured him. "I think my body's just trying to catch up with itself. I mean, the chemo did mess with my sleep patterns, and sleep is when the body's healing process is most active."

"If you're sure..." he hedged. Obviously, he wasn't sure of anything concerning Sarina's health.

"Just let me take a shower. And could you put the kettle on?" she asked as she fumbled for a robe.

"You got it," Michael replied and returned to the kitchen.

Sarina stumbled to the bathroom and cranked the faucet knobs until scalding hot water ran down her back, waking her up and bringing every nerve on her quickly-reddening skin to life. It helped clear away the cobwebs, but she still felt like her limbs were weighted down. Back in her room she dressed and grabbed her simple black wig. When she made it out to the kitchen, she went straight for her tea cupboard and pulled out her emergency stash of black-blackberry tea. She usually only used it as a boost before doctor visits or when she'd visited her father in prison to give her the energy she couldn't muster herself.

As her tea brewed, she glanced over to her father, who was sitting at the small table wedged in one corner of the kitchen. Michael didn't look happy, but his jaw was firmly clamped shut as he sucked instant coffee through his teeth.

"Alright, dad, let me have it," she sighed.

"You really scared me," he said tightly. "You've never slept past noon in your life. And don't think I haven't noticed that hickey, or the fact you look different. I have half a mind to whisk you out out of the country this minute and lock you in a tower on some remote island in the south Pacific."

"Of course I look different. I'm cancer free! And I only over-slept a few hours," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not just the sleeping or your looks," he growled. "I get the feeling that there's a lot going on between you and Isaac, and I'm not allowed to know what it is."

"Dad, seriously, do you expect a detailed play-by-play of all my dating escapades?" she tried to tease as she got down a large mug and her honey jar.

"I expected you to date someone a little less....domineering," he replied, not in the least softened by her sense of humor. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "I just don't want to loose you. Not so soon after I got you back."

Sarina poured tea into her mug and went to sit across from her father. She looked him right in the eyes and said, "Dad, you're not going to loose me. If anything, Isaac has given us more time together. He's in for a big surprise if he thinks he owns me. His whole romantic hero act isn't going to work on me. You know I've never had any trouble speaking my mind. Besides, I told him what I expect, and he told me what he expects. It should only be a few days before we come to a complete understanding."

Michael's face quirked in a half smile. "I think you may be over-simplifying matters, pumpkin. Being the lifemate of a night hunter is a lot less voluntary than you seem to think."

Sarina returned the half smile and winked. "Oh, don't worry about _my_ choices being taken away."

Her father chuckled. "You're not going to make it easy on him?"

"You know me better than that," she said. Then she downed the rest of her tea in a few quick gulps. "Anyway, I need to get going."

"Going where?" he demanded. "It's Saturday."

"And I always visit the children's ward on Saturdays," she reminded him. "Now that I'm healthy again--"

"Don't you dare!" Michael ordered sharply. "Let your body recover before you even _think _about helping any of the children."

"--I can carry oodles of gifts up to them," she finished. "Of course I'm not going to try to take on any diseases. I may have lost all my hair but that doesn't mean I'm _blond."_

Michael laughed and ran a finger through his own blond hair self consciously. Sarina and her mother had both teased him about his natural hair color especially after he said something dumb. He felt a little sheepish for ordering her around. After all, she knew more about the internal workings of human bodies than most doctors he knew. Her impatience with pharmaceuticals, the red tape surrounding them and the companies that produced them, had been the only reason she hadn't pursued a medical career.

"Alright. I was thinking about going shopping anyway. This instant coffee you have is absolutely horrible," he remarked.

"Maybe that's just my subtle way of trying to get you to quit the slop," she quipped. "Let me get you some cash and you can drop me off at the bookstore." She went to her wallet and passed several twenties to her father. "We'll get your name on my account on Monday so you can get a debit card. Then you can get everything you need to start your job search without having to beg allowance from me." She grinned impishly at her father and he rolled his eyes at the roll reversal.

Together they cleaned up the few dishes. Sarina, in a hurry to get to the bookstore and then the hospital, promised her father she'd grab something to eat on the way. When they got down to the covered garage, Michael had the shock of his life. In Sarina's parking spot was a suspicious shape covered in a black sheet.

He pulled off the cover to reveal his old 1969 Mustang. It was all vents and curves, painted iridescent turquoise with white racing stripes and white leather upholstery.

"I thought I told you to sell this hunk of junk!" he cried, torn between outrage and delight. "The money was supposed to go to your treatment."

"I couldn't bare to part with it," she confessed. "I was terrified to drive it, so I could never get the thing out of the garage anyway. Besides, can you think of a better welcome-home gift?"

"But...what about your treatments?" he stammered, unable to take his eyes off the beautiful car.

"I sold my old Honda. Since I was so weak from the chemo, I didn't trust myself to drive. And have you seen gas prices lately?" she continued. "I crunched the numbers and decided taking the bus was a much better way to go. Come on, dad. You know you're not really mad."

"I should be," he muttered sullenly.

"I just hope she still runs," she said as she slid into the passenger's seat.


	7. Chapter 7

_Turns out this chapter took just as long to drag out of my fingertips. Sorry for the time. I hope this is exciting enough to keep you loyal for yet another chapter. Reviews are always welcome._

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With a very satisfied smile, Sarina stepped into the elevator that would take her to the children's ward. She held a large bag in each hand, filled with books and small toys. She'd raided the bargain bins at the book store and come away victorious. She punched the button with her pinky finger.

Just as the doors were about to close, an arm shot between them and they popped open again. Felix Webber sauntered into the elevator car. Sarina repressed a groan. The last thing she wanted to do was banter with the Morrison agent. He gave her the creeps.

Felix had greasy black hair, hard muddy-gray eyes and sallow olive skin. His smile was thin, his nose strait and sharp as a raven's beak underlined by a thin mustache. He was under six feet, and had a spindly build. He wasn't fat, but he had quite a few extra curves that showed his distaste for exorcise. He always dressed like a casual 80's business man with ugly-colored olive slacks and a mustard colored polo shirt. All in all, he was a very unpleasant individual, and for some reason, he always found her when she visited the hospital.

"Afternoon, Miss Tobin," he said, his voice oozing false sincerity. He re-punched the floor for the children's ward.

"Hi, Felix," Sarina sighed as she watched the doors close.

"You are looking positively luminous today," he continued. And she did. Even though she was still as thin as a twig, her eyes seemed larger and deeper. Her skin looked softer. Her lips redder and fuller. She could have been an island goddess starving for worship. And heaven help him, he wanted to worship her with his body.

"Thank you," she replied tightly.

"I haven't seen you around lately," he observed. "Are you feeling well?"

Sarina wished he would just shut up. He was always trying to make polite conversation, but his eyes always gave away his real intentions. "I've been preoccupied."

"Ah," he replied knowingly. "Boyfriend?"

"Sort of," she conceded. Maybe he would back off if she had other romantic interests. She doubted it, but it was worth a try.

"You have a _sort-of _boyfriend?" Felix returned condescendingly.

Sarina wanted snap, but she took a deep breath and said with as much dignity as possible. "Yes. A _sort-of_ boyfriend is one who has proposed but I haven't said yes...yet."

Felix's eyebrows shot up. "Really? How long have you known him? Where's he from? Is he one of your father's army buddies?"

"That is none of your business," she retorted. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Sarina walked out with a purpose towards the children's ward.

"Come on, Sarina," Felix called after her. "Throw me a bone here."

She stopped and turned back to him, her anger boiling up inside her. How dare he grill her about her personal life. He was snoopy and sneaky and she didn't want him anywhere near her. "For your information, my father was in the Marines, not the army! And it's none of your business who I date or get engaged to. Now please leave me alone."

Felix took a step back, astonished by her outburst. She seemed unusually energetic today. Perhaps her cancer was finally in remission. If she was healthy enough, she would be able to withstand interrogation. He would have to check her doctor's files for her latest tests results. And he would put her under surveillance.

Her father and his black-ops _marine_ buddies were high on the foundation's list of...potential research participants. Although most of them were no longer enlisted, there were some who were still high in the ranks, more than one colonel and one general. And all of them were still dangerous—not a one of them had lost a single ounce of muscle after retiring. Since his orders were to operate under the radar, he couldn't approach such dangerous men with friends in such high places. But the daughter of one might be a starting place.

If he could prove the armed forces were using psychic soldiers or—even better—if they'd enlisted dark creatures to ensure victory, he would be a hero. A very wealthy and famous hero. After all, the American people had a right to know if their government was consorting with the dark arts.

Sarnia shook off the prickles that covered her skin every time she had to talk with Felix. There was something very, VERY wrong with that man.

As soon as she entered the children's ward, her mood lightened. It was always a treat to see the kids. All the long term patients knew her well, and the short-term patients were quickly won over with stories and gifts. After she had spent time with all the others, passing out books and goodies, she went to visit one special girl.

Keona Alapai was a dark skinned Hawaiian girl. Sarina knew her parents, both from Honolulu. They'd transferred their daughter to the larger children's hospital in Los Angeles on the slim chance that she could survive the rare cancer—_astrocytomas_ _gliomas, _or tumors that grew on her spinal chord--draining her young teenage body.

"Aloha!" Keona called as soon as she saw Sarina. She lifted her hand and made the hang-loose sign.

"Aloha,"Sarina smiled and made the sign back. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like the belly of a sea cucumber," Keona made a face. "Yucky."

Sarina chuckled. "I brought you something to cheer you up." She pulled out a large book about sharks. "Lots of pictures of the big toothy beauties, and some more of the more interesting facts about them."

"Sweet!" Keona cried, showing real enthusiasm for the first time. "Thank you so much. It's wonderful."

"I know you're parents won't be too happy about it--" she started.

"Oh, come on, like they could deny me anything right now. Besides, this is as close to diving with sharks as I'll ever come," the girl reasoned, holding up the book.

"You are way too cynical for your age," Sarina said dryly.

"Actually, if you factor in how old I am compared to how long the doctors expected me to live, it turns out I'm old enough to be a grandmother. Either way, the only way I can get around these days is with a walker," she added with a face. Then she grew somber. "They don't expect me to ever recover. They say that even my chances of remission are less than 2%, and they don't know how I've made it this long."

"You have a strong heart, that's how," Sarina assured her. Keona often reminded her of the little sister she never had. Her heart ached to see her in so much pain, weighed down by the same crushing hopelessness Sarina had battled no more than two days ago. She had promised her father that she wouldn't, but she knew she couldn't leave Keona this way. "And I dare say you'll astonish them yet. Roll on your side."

"Why?" Keona asked suspiciously.

"Did I ever tell you that I am an expert in ancient eastern medicine?" Sarina responded. "Let me see what I can do to make you more comfortable, at least." She didn't have to defeat the cancer—it would be dangerous to try battling such an aggressive and well-established cancer in her still weak state—but she could loosen a few things, lessen the risk of surgery, protect the spine, set up blockades in her circulatory system to keep the cells from metastasizing further. Then, when she was healthier, she could come back and finish the job. Or maybe Isaac would help her.

Keona rolled over obediently and Sarina concentrated. She breathed deeply and trailed her hands down the girl's back. Some of the tumors were visible just under the skin. Then again, with how thin Keona had become during treatment, Sarina could count her vertebra. She felt sever lumps, and touched on a few warm spots where other tumors were hiding. Sarina imagined the sound of the surf, coming in and pulling out the cancer, gently but insistently loosening it from her spine. She thought of huge kelp forests, wrapping around the girl's vital organs and spinal column, protecting them from cancerous invasion.

Suddenly she felt Isaac's power. He wasn't close by, and yet he was with her, feeding her the energy that her body could not supply. He said nothing, passed no judgments, but quietly supported her efforts to save this girl. Sarina was grateful for his silent aid, but she suspected she'd get an ear-full later.

Ignoring the ghost of lectures yet to come, Sarina reached deeper into the sea and pulled out images of the abyss of open water. No nutrition. No warmth. No shelter. A desert underwater. She put those images into the tumors. Already, she could feel their growth slow, shrink away from the spine, daunted by the sheer void of life. She counted two tumors that gave up all together, convinced by her power that they were quite literally dead in the water.

With a final deep breath, Sarina soothed Keona's organs with images of Hawaii. Warmth, healing waters, stars, the grumble of a healthy molten core under the island as it built a sanctuary for all kinds of life. The body needed a sanctuary, and even though the chemo burned like lava through Keona's veins, it was cleansing.

As Sarina came out of her healing trance, she gently rubbed a few pressure points on Keona's neck and shoulders to help relieve the tension building up from the long hospital stay.

"There," she sighed, a little out of breath and very drained. "How do you feel?"

Keona paused a moment while she rolled back to look at Sarina. "Like I just got off my surf board. Sort of exhausted and achy from swimming in the surf so long, but...peaceful."

"Good. I'll be back in a few days, and we'll have another session," Sarina assured her.

"Are you sure it's not going to interfere with anything the doctor's do here?" Keona wanted to know.

"No. Consider it sort of an aligning of the energy that flows through you. It doesn't work the same as your circulatory system, but illness can throw it out of joint just the same as the rest of your body," she explained. "By helping your energy to flow smoothly, it helps the doctor's drugs get to where they need to be."

"I guess that makes sense, but I don't think my parents will buy it," Keona warned.

"They don't have to buy it. It just has to work," Sarina returned pragmatically. She checked her watch. An hour until sunset. "Now I have to be going. My, um, boyfriend will be off work soon and--"

"Hold on a minute," Keona cried. "Since when do you have a boyfriend?"

"Since...about two days ago," Sarina replied, making a show of her reluctance.

"Who is he? Is he hot? Does he take you to monster tuck shows or the opera?" Keona demanded.

"He is very hot," Sarina informed her. "Totally the tall-dark-and-drop-dead-gorgeous type. I met him on the Pier, and he bought me dinner to pay for his portrait."

"Aww," Keona sighed. "That's so sweet."

"He's been a thorn in my side ever since," Sarina rolled her eyes. "Very clingy and over-protective."

"But you like him!" Keona accused in a sing-song voice even as her eyes drooped..

"Maybe a little." Sarina winked. "But don't tell him that."

"Do I get to--Oaah--meet him?" the girl insisted with a yawn.

Sarina thought for a moment. Visiting hours were usually done by sunset, but she suspected that Isaac wouldn't have much trouble with that sort of thing. And he could heal Keona once and for all. "I think you might."

"Good," she grumbled as she finally fell asleep.

Sarina kissed her fingertips and laid them on the girls bald scalp. "Aloha, cousin," she whispered and quietly left the room.

Felix Webber saw her moving out of the room and quickly hid behind a gurney. Sarina looked tired, and she'd spent nearly an hour with that one girl. They hadn't even been talking most of the time. However, he had managed to catch the last of their conversation. Tall-dark-and-drop-dead-gorgeous plus overly protective was a recipe for disaster in his book.

Everyone at the Foundation knew that vampires were often the most beautiful and most blameless individuals in society. They appeared so perfect to cover up their evil souls that it was a dead giveaway to those who hunted them. The only trouble was killing them without getting caught by their enamored fans. That Sarina wasn't praising this sudden boyfriend was a bit peculiar. From what he'd been taught, Felix expected fanatical devotion from any a vampire touched, and judging by that hickey she'd half covered with her mock-turtleneck-tee, the suspect vampire had more than touched her.

Still, this was definitely a case worth following for a few days.

Sarina went down stairs to find her father and Isaac in identical poses, leaning casually against Michael's classic mustang, arms crossed, pinning her the moment she walked out the Hospital doors with a scolding glare.

She raised her hands defensively. "I didn't do anything," she claimed.

"Get in the car," Michael said curtly.

Sarina rolled her eyes and climbed in the back.

_We are both upset with you for risking yourself to help this girl,_ Isaac informed her gruffly.

_Well, if you hadn't informed my father, then only one of you would be mad and I'd only be in half as much trouble, now wouldn't I?_ She returned as her father brought the mustang engine to life with a roar.

_There was no call to put yourself in danger,_ Isaac insisted. Sarina sensed that he was barely containing his anger. It boiled under the surface like an undersea volcano.

_I wasn't in any danger,_ she soothed. _I didn't take anything into my body. I just loosened the tumors for her. Made her more comfortable. That's all._

_That is not what we are upset about,_ Isaac said. _We are upset your conversations with Felix Webber._

_Felix Webber? _She repeated, confused. _I didn't tell that creep anything._

_He reeks of the butchers who routinely capture and torture psychics or anyone masquerading as a psychic,_ Isaac growled. _You should never be anywhere near his ilk._

_I'm not made of glass, Isaac,_ she reasoned. _At least, not any more. Thanks to you._

She felt the anger burst through his thin veneer of civilization. His face didn't change expression as he stared out the windshield, but she could feel the violent red haze in his thoughts. _Do not imply that my healing enabled you to endanger yourself! Had I known those...abominations were this close to you, I would have taken you far away from here before healing your body._

Sarina was suddenly scared. Her father had not said a single word yet. She wondered what would have happened if Isaac had really known about Felix that first night they met. She would probably have been locked in a tower far away from the ocean. Just the thought made her throat dry up.

_I'm fine,_ she insisted.

_Regardless, we are leaving tonight._ Isaac was unflappable.

"Leaving?" Sarina cried aloud.

"Yes," Michael agreed, his voice tight. "Isaac has generously offered a coastal property he owns in Oregon. We will pack suitcases tonight, and arrange for the other things to be shipped later."

"But I can't leave. Keona needs my help!" she protested.

"You have helped her," Michael replied. "Which I am also not happy about."

"But I couldn't do that much. She'll die without--"

"People die every day," Michael barked coldly. "Death is part of life. You can save everyone, and if you'll try, you'll kill yourself—or worse!"

"But, dad--"

"No buts!" he yelled.

Sarina sat back, blinking at the tears threatening to fill her eyes. She couldn't just leave Keona to suffer, but that's exactly what they were asking her to do. Not asking. Forcing. The two men who—according to everything they'd ever told her—were dedicated to her happiness were going to drag her kicking and screaming out of the state.

_It is for your own safety,_ Isaac ventured softly, his anger under control.

_What about Keona's safety? _Sarina demanded.

Isaac sighed. He felt her worry and love for the girl. Asking Sarina to leave her in pain and facing certain death was inhuman. His newly discovered emotions condemned the decision the rational, logical part of his mind had made. _I will personally see to her health problems after you are safe._

_I'm not leaving until I'm sure she's going to be better._ Sarina tried to sound just as firm.

_Mein liebe, mein herz, mein seele,_ Isaac sounded close to begging in her mind. _If I were to loose you, no one, mortal, immortal or halfbreed, would be safe from the monster I would become. Look into my mind. Do you not see how close I am to turning?_

_I thought we fixed that!_ She protested.

_It was simply a blood exchange. We did not complete the ritual,_ he replied reluctantly. Sarina caught the erotic images he had in his mind of what the "complete ritual" would be like.

_Fine, we can complete the ritual in my apartment—I don't care. I'm not leaving Keona,_ she insisted.

_For one so demanding of romance last night, you treat the prospect of our first joining very casually,_ Isaac observed, sounding both irritated and hurt.

_I. Will. Not. Leave. Her, _Sarina said.


	8. Chapter 8

_A faster post! I think I'm in a groove. Ah, the wonders of coffee. And finally! We get a tiny bit of background on the Tobins before they moved to California. Thank you everyone for the encouraging reviews. I love reading them.  
_

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Sarina dragged her feet all the way up to the apartment. She knew she was behaving like a petulant child throwing a fit, but she didn't care. Felix Webber might be a creep of epic proportions, but she was certain she wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Take only what cannot be replaced," Isaac instructed. "Everything will be provided at the new house."

Michael nodded and began filling a duffel bag with the family pictures on the walls. Sarina marched to her room and closed the door behind her to keep Isaac from following. She jammed some dirty socks under the door as well to keep him from sneaking in. She could feel the warmth around her ears that told her that her father was shielding her in his unique way. It probably didn't bother Isaac much, since they could still speak mind to mind, but maybe, just maybe, if she didn't think too hard about what she was doing, she could get away.

She tried to keep her mind on other things while she prepared for her escape. First, she pulled out some Ziplocs and stuffed a clean change of clothes into them, sealing them tight for travel. She slipped them into her backpack. The keepsakes she inherited from her mother would have to be carefully wrapped before they were packed. She pulled out some tissue paper and started to wrap them. Then she pulled out hard-sided suitcase to pack them in. Half way through, she changed from her casual clothes into her board shorts and a rash guard shirt.

She couldn't bear to leave anything of her mother's behind, so she went back and finished packing. She made sure to include her mother's favorite silk fans and rice paper parasols. Over her swimming clothes, she put her regular clothes back on. She pulled out the customized red and gold kimono her mother had been married in. She put that in the suitcase as well. Finally, she wrapped her hand carved jade and ironwood jewelry box in an old sweatshirt, and put that on top.

Turning back to her backpack, she grabbed her cell phone and quickly texted Mark with a short message: mayday. meet me aotp asap. As soon as the message was sent, she deleted it from her outbox. Then she packed another bag with her art supplies. She slipped her feet into her ugliest pair of flipflops, shouldered her backpack, and picked up her two bags. She barely spared a glance at her wigs or her makeup as she left her room.

Her father was also done packing the few things, pictures mostly, that he could not leave behind. Isaac quietly and gracefully took the hard-sided suitcase from Sarina. He looked at her face, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

_Do not run from me, mein liebe,_ he warned. _No matter where you go, I would find you._

_I know,_ she replied coolly. She led the way out the door and to the elevator. Michael and Isaac followed her with stoic efficiency. She paused as the elevator doors opened and passed her art supplies into Isaac's free hand. "I forgot something. I'll just be a minute. Go warm up the car. I'll take the next elevator down."

"Sarina," her father started warningly.

"I'll be fast," she promised and ran back to the apartment to avoid further protests. When she reached the door of her apartment, she glanced back and saw the doors slide closed. Her last glimpse had been of Isaac's green eyes, hard with concern for her. Then she sprinted for the stairs. She impishly sat on the rail and slid down flight after flight of stairs. She reached the ground in record time and ran out the back door of the apartment building.

Isaac and her father were likely stuck in the elevator until they reached the parking level, but then Isaac would likely be right behind her with his inhuman speed. She just had to make it 3 blocks to the ocean. She'd be safe as soon as she touched the sea water.

Sarina raced down the street, her pounding heart pushing dangerous levels of adrenalin through her system. Her backpack was light, and didn't imped her running. One block down. She could feel Isaac's rage as he realized what she was doing. He tried to slow her down, but her father's shields were still in place. Either Isaac hadn't told her father what she was doing, or her father was aiding her momentary escape. Nearing the two block mark, she could feel Isaac racing towards her, his body oddly immobile but his speed was a blur.

She crossed a small street and sprinted down the last block towards the beach. So close. So close.

Isaac was right beside her now, easily pacing her. He glared at her as he ran. She ignored him. She filled her mind with thoughts of the ocean.

_I warned you not to run,_ he growled. _Do not force me to restrain you._

_I'm not forcing you to do anything,_ she replied as her feet hit the sand. She shed her flip flops while keeping her stride even. 50 feet to the water. _Just like you aren't going to force me to break my word. _

25 feet to the water.

_STOP!_ Isaac commanded, filling his voice with a terrible compulsion.

Sarina felt the power of his words push through her father's shields just as her toes touched the sea. She stumbled as her body followed his order, even as her spirit reached out for the water. She fell into the surf and felt his compulsion dissolve. She was free.

Isaac stooped to help her stand up, but she rolled out with the retreating waves. He lost sight of her for a moment under the sea foam. Frantically he searched for her, but she was gone. Then she stood up, twenty feet away from him, waist deep in the water. He plunged into the serf, pushing through the water to get to her.

"I'm sorry, Isaac," she called over the crashing waves. "I'm not trading momentary safety for the life of that girl. If you really loved me, you wouldn't ask me to do such a thing."

"I promised you I would take care of her," Isaac shouted back. He was desperate to get her out of the water. "Come back, right now!" He put more power than he had ever dared use on a human into that command, but he felt his power just dissipate into the ocean, absorbed and neutralized. Isaac had never had such an experience in his experiments near the sea. As a full fledged Carpathian, he was supposed to have power over all the forces of nature.

Sarina's heart ached for Isaac. She felt his desperation, his frustration, his overwhelming desire to make sure she was safe. Her defiance shattered the calm he had forged over centuries. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to try again," she tried to assure him.

As an absolute last resort, he broke his promise to himself to wait for her to fully accept him. Isaac screamed, "_I claim you as my lifemate!"_

Sarina's body jerked. Deep down, she could tell he was irrevocably binding her to him to her. She dove under the water and sought refuge under the waves. His thoughts followed her.

_I belong to you,_ he continued.

_Stop it! _She cried as she dove deeper. She could feel the ocean accepting her, filling her with energy even as she felt her heart reaching for his. She followed a current farther out to one of the many kelp forests that lined the California coast.

_I offer my life for you. I give you my protection...my allegiance...my heart...my soul...and...my...body..._

His words finally faded away as she gained enough distance to silence that insistent voice, the peculiar chant that pulled on the weave and weft of her soul. She felt like crying, but she knew her tears would be instantly lost in the sea. She settled on a rock and let out all the air in her lungs.

Then she sucked in salt water, and exhaled it through the razor-thin gill-slits in her ribs. Her shirt got in the way, and she shrugged out of it, letting it drift in the water. It was cotton and would break down in a few weeks. Her rash guard tee had a loose weave on the sides that allowed water to flow out of her body easily. She took another deep breath of water, letting the flavors of the ocean fill her senses and balance her internal chemistry naturally.

Isaac knew she loved the ocean. But he didn't know who or what she was. She hadn't had the strength to tell him, to risk his condemnation, his rejection, of this fishy side of her heritage. Her father was half mage, but her mother had been one of the sea folk.

Sea folk were not mermaids, exactly. Selkies, kelpies, sirens, changelings. All names for the sea folk in other lands. The sea folk traveled alone or in small pods. Many women chose to embrace a human man for a few years before returning to the ocean. They were playful people, as serious as a dolphin's smile.

Her mother had been unusual in that she had truly given her heart to a mortal man, and no matter how many times she'd slipped under the waves, she'd always come back to his arms. True love had bound them together beyond all reason. Perhaps it was because she hadn't been a full blood, but a love child from another frivolous joining of one of the sea folk and a mortal.

While Sarina didn't have all the skills and gifts her mother had possessed, they had both been one with the ocean, able to breath air and water. Sarina's gills only came out when she was deep in salt water. She'd tried breathing fresh water and chlorine water, only to nearly choke to death. The ocean also protected her, with in reason. Right now it was shielding her from Isaac's searching. It wouldn't protect her from a hungry shark who mistook her for a seal. Life and death had equal rolls in the sea. That was why Sarina was staying close to the kelp beds while she caught her breath. It was a haven in the ocean.

Her heart quieted and then began to ache. She felt incomplete. Dislodged. She wanted to swim back into Isaac's open arms. She could almost see him, fighting the waves and currents, looking for her. Then she realized that that was exactly what he was doing. He wasn't going to let her go that easily. He fully intended to search for her until he found her. Through the water, she could almost hear the beast inside him howling in loss. Even though her skin was used to the cold Pacific waters, the ghostly ringing in her ears gave her goosebumps.

_Go back_, she thought to him. _I'm fine. You'll kill yourself in the open ocean._

Isaac jerked as he heard her voice, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. It was if the ocean itself was speaking to him. He cried out, _Where are you?_

_Go back,_ she insisted as she faded away.

Isaac cursed in every language he knew and erupted out of the water. Perhaps her father would know what was going on. In a matter of seconds, he was sitting in the passenger's seat of the classic mustang. Michael was just staring straight ahead. He didn't seem surprised by Isaac's sudden appearance.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice soft but filled with menace.

"She's probably at the bottom of one of the kelp beds, catching her breath," Michael replied. His shields were now redoubled and impenetrable.

"That is not funny," Isaac snarled. "She is alive, I know she is."

"Of course she's alive" Michael said. "I never said she wasn't."

"Then how can she be at the bottom of a kelp bed? Giant kelp can root at one hundred feet below the surface. Normal mortals cannot reach that depth without aid, and she is still weak from the cancer," he snapped.

Michael finally looked at him. "In all your little chats, she never mentioned what she was, did she? She never even thought about it, or you would have known. She always had incredible self control."

Isaac's arm moved so fast that Michael didn't even see a blur. Suddenly the Carpathian's hand was clenched around Michael's throat, pinning him to the back of the driver's seat and slowly throttling the life out of him. At the same time, sharp mental barbs jabbed painfully at Michael's mental shields. "Let me see how well you do without air," he spat. "Or perhaps you are willing to enlighten me about your daughter's where abouts."

"Sarina...has gills...like...fish!" Michael gasped. "Her mother...too."

Isaac's eyes widened in astonishment. "Gills," he repeated, disbelieving.

Michael coughed and gasped, clawing at Isaac's unbreakable grip on his esophagus. "She was...from...the islands...south Pacific."

Isaac slowly released his grip. "Go on," he ordered.

Michael wheezed as he dragged air through his bruised wind pipe. "I met my wife when I was on a tour of duty in Indonesia. She said she was a Kiwi—a native of New Zealand. An oceanographer, studying coral death all over the south Pacific. We fell in love almost instantly, and we married six weeks later. Two years after that, Sarina was born. My wife was murdered on our tenth anniversary by one of your darker counterparts."

"How do you know it was a vampire?" Isaac demanded. "And why did I not see this in Sarina's thoughts when she spoke about her mother?"

"I know a vampire when I see one," Michael replied sardonically. "He had a glamor, a mask of beauty, but I could see through it to the real beast. She drew him away so that Sarina and I--" he broke off, reliving the horrible memories in the privacy of his own shielded mind. He had watched his wife die at the hands of the vilest creature on earth so that he and his daughter could escape. "I transferred to Hawaii, and Sarina stayed with my mother while I was on tours. After a month of nightmares, I dimmed Sarina's memories of the incident."

Isaac sensed the painful truth in Michael's words. The thought of Sarina as a child being exposed to something worse than Felix Webber made his stomach knot. He should have been combing the world for her, instead of sitting in the Carpathian mountains, expecting his lifemate to somehow find him. How could he have been so selfish when he didn't have any emotions?

"Where is she going now?" Isaac asked softly, respectfully.

"She wants to help out this girl," Michael reminded him. "So if you want to get my daughter back in a hurry, I suggest you heal the girl, and then grovel."

Isaac shot him a look. "I do not grovel."

"Every man grovels for the woman he loves," Michael replied softly as he finally started the car.


	9. Chapter 9

As much as Sarina loved the kelp forest, she needed to get moving. Mark was supposed to meet her at the Aquarium of the Pacific, and it was a long swim to Long Beach. Her backpack, while not heavy, was far from aerodynamic, and would slow her down. Sarina went to the edge of the forest to see if any help was nearby.

As luck would have it, a pod of dolphins were nearby. Sarina's mother had been able to talk with the aquatic life, but that was not a skill Sarina had inherited. Still, her mother had taught her enough body language to ask for a lift. The dolphins were heading south anyway, towards Baja California. Sarina was welcome to come along for the ride. The dolphins made a game of passing her back and forth as they traveled, keeping Sarina under the waves and safe from Isaac's probing.

She swam with the dolphins for several hours until she finally came to Long Beach. They parted ways 200 feed from shore. The dolphins left without a second thought, and Sarina swam ashore. Oddly, when she finally walked out of the waves, she felt more refreshed than when she'd entered the sea. Water drained from her lungs through her gills and she inhaled the mild evening air.

Sarina knew that she was vulnerable to Isaac now, more so than she had ever been before. It had to do with that strange chant he'd shouted at her when she'd refused his compulsion. She desperately wanted to reach out with her mind and find him, just to know if he was still alive. She felt so uneven, uncomfortable, like she was dragging an iron ball chained to her heart.

Forcing herself to think only of Keona, she jogged up the beach and headed west on Shoreline Drive. After a few minutes, she saw a familiar burly figure pacing around the fountain in front of the Aquarium of the Pacific.

"Mark!" she cried as she ran towards him. "Thank you for coming for me."

"Sari!" Mark swept her up into a bear hug. Sarina clung to him, even as her traitorous heart wished the arms crushing her were Isaac's. "You scared me. Come on, lets get out of here."

"Let me change first," she interjected breathlessly.

"Change in my car," he replied briskly as he pushed her towards his camero.

"Alright, but no peaking," she admonished playfully. Mark rolled his eyes but dutifully turned away. She quickly slipped out of her wet swimsuit and pulled out her dry clothes from the zip locks in her backpack. For once, she was glad she didn't have any hair that would soak the back of her sweat shirt. She tapped on the window to let Mark know she was done. He opened his door and easily slid into the leather upholstered seat.

"So are we going to the airport or to Mexico?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking space.

"Neither. I need to get back to the children's hospital," she replied.

"What?" he cried. "I thought you were on the run from Isaac!"

"Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not refusing his...over-zealous affections," she said coolly. "We're just taking a break."

Mark brightened and asked hopefully, "Does this break include dating other people?"

Sarina gave him a suspicious sidelong glance. "What do you mean, _dating other people_?"

Mark took a deep breath and laid it all out. "I mean, would you consider a date with me?"

"Mark--" Sarina started warningly.

"Come on, Sari," Mark pleaded as he got on the northbound freeway. "We've known each other for years. I've always been there for you, haven't I? Your father likes me and you know I can take care of you no matter what. Besides the Dracula appeal, what does Isaac have that I don't?"

Sarina looked at Mark for a long time. Then she sighed. She would trust him with her life without a second thought, but her heart was no longer hers to give away. "Mark, it's not about what he has or you don't have. It's about chemistry. Fate even. Neither of us have much control over this thing, and while I'm not one to fall for the _love at first sight_ gag, I can't deny the connection. But you are already family. You always have been."

"So I have no chance?" Mark asked, desolation filling his voice.

"If we were any closer, we'd be joined at the hip. Kissing you would be like kissing my brother," she said with a soft smile.

Mark let out his breath. "Well, you can't fault me for trying."

"I just need to get to the hospital," she reminded him. Suddenly she felt Isaac stirring like a wave against her mind. Joy and panic surged through her. "And be quiet; I need to concentrate."

She closed her eyes and thought of the ocean, remembering the kelp forest she'd just left and the swim with the dolphins. She remembered the feel of the waves and currents, letting the sea fill her. Isaac brushed her mind again, and she could feel his profound relief that she was alive and well. He was confused about the images he saw when he merged with her. He knew she wasn't underwater, but somehow he couldn't pinpoint her location.

_I thought I had lost you_, he whispered, tears in his voice. _Come back to me. We can work this out between us._

Sarina's heart leaped into her throat, but she refused to answer him. If she did, it would give away her position. Then he'd swoop in and whisk her away, along with every chance she had of saving Keona. She just had to hold out until she got to the hospital. Once there, she could heal Keona, and afterwards, when Sarina was drained and riddled with cancer again, she could call Isaac to save her. It wasn't a good plan, but she couldn't spare a braincell to think it through.

_Mein liebe, speak to me,_ Isaac pleaded softly.

The image of him coldly refusing to let her go to Keona filled Sarnia's mind against her will. She felt him wince.

_Do not hold my concern for your safety against me,_ he answered. _Without you, I am nothing but a monster. You are my light, my reason for living. It is my duty and privilege to see to your health and well being._

Sarina wanted to yell at him, to tell him he had no right to lock her in a box away from the world. But instead, she took a cleansing breath and thought more about the ocean. She concentrated for nearly an hour while enduring Isaac cajoling and demanding. Every time she was about to give in, she remembered Keona's struggle for life. She flatly refused to give up.

Finally, Mark pulled up in front of the hospital. Isaac had stooped using words, and only communicated his heart-wrenching loneliness, which was so bone deep that Sarina was fighting back tears. It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, but Sarina was single-minded about saving Keona. She made a move to get out of the car when Mark put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm going up with you," he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but Mark hurried on. "You ran from Isaac for a reason—which I can only guess at—but no matter which way you slice it, I couldn't live with myself if you rushed headlong into trouble and I wasn't there to protect you. And even if I could live with myself, your father would have me shot, gutted, hung by my balls, and roasted over a volcano. So you're stuck with me," he finished firmly. He got out of the car. Sarina just smiled and followed him into the hospital.

They walked briskly down the halls, ignoring the night nurses and security guards. The elevator up to the children's ward seemed agonizingly slow. Finally, they reached Keona's room.

Mark put an arm out in front of Sarina to keep her from entering the room, his other hand reaching for something inside his jacket. "Wait," he hissed softly. "There's someone in there." Sarina wondered if it was Felix Webber making some horrible mischief for Keona because of their visit earlier that day. "I'll take a look—it's probably just a nurse," Mark said.

Mark moved forward. He knew the dark shape inside was too large to be a nurse—unless the hospital was hiring wrestlers for the night shift. It was Isaac. Mark pulled his hand out of his jacked and brandished a large silver cross. "What are you doing here, blood sucker?" he spat.

Isaac looked up at him with cold contempt turning his green eyes to unfriendly, murky teal. "If you knew the meaning of the icon you hold in your hands," he replied softly but emotionlessly, "you would not put any faith in it."

"I know it's supposed to keep away devils like you," Mark shot back.

Suddenly Isaac was on his feet and looming over Mark. His voice was as soft velvet, but as cold as a glacier. "When Rome was at its peak, anyone who opposed Cesar was put to an ugly, agonizing death of slow asphyxiation on the cross. It wielded the power of fear over every conquered people in the empire. Regardless of your belief in the Messiah known as Jesus, using the cross as a holy ward is akin to deifying the swastika." He reached out and plucked the cross from Mark's hands and crumpled it as if it were made of tin foil. He dropped the ball of metal on the floor contemptuously. "Rome and its cross hold no power over one such as I."

"Mark," Sarina interjected softly. "Let me in, please."

Isaac looked up at Sarina, his eyes full of hunger and pain. "Leave us," he ordered, filling the two words with a compulsion that Mark could not refuse. Sullenly, the marine left the room.

_Why would you not answer me?_ Isaac demanded, using the intimate means of communication between lifemates because he did not trust the strength of his voice.

_I was afraid of what you would do,_ she replied honestly.

_I promised you that I would return to for this girl,_ he reminded her. _Why did you not believe me?_

_Healing her was not your promise to make, nor to keep. It was mine,_ she explained. _ I am not in the habit of breaking promises, even if they are fulfilled by someone else. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. You pushed me into a corner until the only way I could stay true to myself was by running away._

Her protests hit Isaac in the stomach like a physical blow. He had been so certain of her gentle, amiable nature. He had convinced himself that she would always follow where he led. In his arrogance and inexperience, he had treated her like he treated pain or discomfort, compartmentalizing it until the danger had past.

_Mein liebe,_ he whispered, aching raw grief in his voice. He held out his arms, like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. _I have heard many stories of women resisting their mates, fighting tooth and nail against a union they did not deem fair. I once thought you accepted ours, but when I tried to tighten my grip, you slipped through my fingers like water._

She fell into his arms. Unexpectedly, tears sprang into her eyes and started coursing down her cheeks. She had only been away from him for a few hours, but she had missed him terribly. He had missed her as well, for no sooner had his arms enveloped her, than his mouth descended upon hers in a scorching, desperate kiss.

_I'm sorry_, she gasped. _I'm so, so sorry. I just couldn't leave her._

_I know. Do not apologize, _he admonished huskily as he broke the kiss. _You have done nothing wrong. I am at fault. I pushed my emotions for you away when I feared for your safety. I convinced your father you were in grave danger so he would aid me instead of shielding you. I drove you away with my insensitivity. I am learning the hard way that you are different from everyone else I have ever encountered in all my centuries. _

Sarina didn't know what to say. She just knew that her clothes were uncomfortable, and her blood was too hot. She wanted Isaac desperately, but her responsibility to Keona prevented her from throwing all reason to the wind.

_Come away with me, mein liebe,_ Isaac whispered. _Let me make up for my errors. Let me show you how much I need you. _

_But...Keona,_ her distracted mind protested.

_I have healed her enough. She will heal under the crude ministrations of the human doctors here, and her recovery will not seem suspicious to Felix Webber. She will be safe,_ he informed her. Already, he was ushering her out of Keona's room, his hands still holding her close.

"Thank you," she croaked, her voice husky with raw lust. _Thank you for caring enough...It seems there is one more thing on my tab._

_Oh, mein liebe, mein herz, mein seele, you should know by now that I would do anything for you if I thought you might love me,_ he replied, his voice sensuous and deep. He guided her into the stairwell. Sweeping her into his arms as if she was a damsel in distress, they glided up the stairs to the roof.

_Do you really need my love?_ she asked softly, meekly. _You can't make do with submission and acceptance?_

Isaac looked down at her. She was scared and confused. She tried to hide it underneath roaring hormones, exercising tremendous self control to keep her personal fears private. He merged his mind deeper with hers to reassure her, and discovered that deep down, she was trembling with despair. She didn't understand their connection, but the tole it had taken on her during their short time apart gave her little hope for an independent future. At the same time, she was even more afraid of what would happen if she couldn't give him what he needed. She was afraid for her father, her friend Mark, the children at the hospital. She was even afraid for him. Even through her fear, she didn't want him to get hurt. That she cared enough to worry about him melted his heart, as much as her fear knotted his stomach.

They were on the roof of the hospital now, and Isaac set Sarina on her feet. He knelt in front of her and took one hand.

"Sarina," he said, speaking clearly while opening his mind to her so she would know the truth of his words. "I do not exaggerate when I say you are the light of my life. My reason for drawing breath. I love you with every fiber of my being. I would gladly lay down my life for your happiness. If you wish to continue peddling your art on the pier, I would support you. If you wanted to establish your own gallery, all you need do is say the word. Ask me anything to prove my love—save leaving you—and I will do it. In the face of my utter devotion, can you not find it in your heart to love me just a little?"

Tears filled Sarina's eyes again as she looked at her green-eyed stalker, so vulnerable, laying his heart at her feet. She wanted to love this man the way he deserved. He was strong, honorable, thoughtful. A little over-the-top sometimes, but everyone was entitled to a moment or two. She liked his sense of humor, his grumpy face when she didn't compliment him, his old world manors—and even his stupid little German pet names.

"Maybe a little," she whispered before her throat closed up.

Relief and regret washed through Isaac. Relief that she would make the effort, regret that he had not yet proved himself worthy. He stood and drew her into an embrace. "We will work together, _mein liebe,_" he whispered in her ear. "For now, let us go someplace warm and safe."

"And private," she whispered back, barely audible, but it warmed his heart. He tightened his grip and they flew into the air.

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_Edit: Thanks for everyone who's mentioned my spelling errors and such. I'll try to catch more of them in future. :P_


	10. Chapter 10

_Yes! A chapter! I know, it's a miracle. Please don't think I'm snubbing you, loyal readers and reviewers. I have not had time to even work on my "real" stories--the original ones I'm trying to publish--or any of my art commissions, of which I have 4 sizable ones to start. My stupid job is sucking the life out of me, so please be patient with me. By way of thanks, here's a racy chapter. Tee hee!_

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Chapter 10

Isaac flew through the air with Sarina in his arms. He traveled north to a small system of caves near the coast. He knew Sarina would be uncomfortable away from the ocean, and even though he was reluctant to be so close to her escape rout, he sensed that she needed the reassurance of the waves to make it through this night.

The caves were dry and smelled of earth and herbs. Isaac whisked them through to the back cave where it was safe beneath the earth. A beautiful king sized bed was at the back of the cave and several pools of water collected from rain were to one side. Isaac set Sarina down in the middle of the cave and relaxed his arms so she could make the next move.

Sarina took a deep breath and walked over to the huge, plush bed. She sat on the edge, her furtive glances at Isaac betraying her nervousness. He tested her mind and found no barriers. She was terrified that sex might become a means of controlling her, especially since she was a virgin, but her body demanded his urgently and she couldn't refuse him after all he'd done for her, her father, and now Keona.

"Is this how it will be then?" Isaac asked, his voice flat. "We are to come together in uncertainty, only to serve the demands of our bodies? To pay the tab, so to speak?"

"I don't know what all you want from me," Sarina whispered.

Isaac stood his ground, keeping a safe distance between them. "I want your love. With out it, I may as well give my self up to the burning rays of dawn. Certainly, I would not invade your body without it. I may be a more animal than man, but I have some shred of honor left in me."

Sarina looked away. "So after everything you said, you don't want me. Am I to skinny for you? To dark? To free spirited?" she demanded harshly.

"Now you are trying to bait me," he cautioned her. "You know I want you. You know that you are the only woman I see, the only one I desire. But I want all of you, your heart, your soul, your mind as well as your body. I want you to love me as much as I love you. You said you loved me a little, but still you hold the rest of your heart away from me."

"My heart is already yours," she snapped. "I couldn't give it to another even if I wanted to." The image of Mark asking for a date flashed into her mind despite her determination not to think of him.

The beast in Isaac roared with jealousy when he saw her thoughts. He wanted to rip out the young Marine's guts with his bare hands. He held himself in check until he could control the monster within. "I ask again," he rasped, his throat dry with lust, anger, and desperation. "What must I do to prove my love to you? To gain your love in return? To earn your unwavering trust?"

"It's not that simple. You can't _do_ anything--" she started.

"Then tell me how this other male achieved such a high place in your affections?" he growled. "Why is he more worthy than your lifemate to receive your attention and compassion?"

"This isn't about Mark!" she cried.

"You are right! This is about us," he agreed. "Why do you not trust me? Have I given you any reason to doubt my intentions?"

"You have never…it's just…" she faltered, tears closing up her throat.

"Just what?" he demanded.

"I'm not good enough for you," she screamed. "You're the big bad night hunter, and I'm the weak mixed-blood mortal who, by the way, is already marked by another night hunter. You're so strong and powerful, while I'm skinny and bald! You're centuries old, while I'm barely 24. We're _so obviously_ not compatible, but I was still willing to take the time to get to know you and fall in love with you. I thought_ who knows? Stranger things have happened! _Then you had to panic about my safety when there was nothing wrong in the first place—and on top of that, because you're worried, you demand that I put my feelings for you on the fast track. I've known you for 3 freaking days, and somehow I'm supposed to be madly in love with you enough to jump into the first bed we come across already. Then when I try to express who I am inside, you flip out! I have friends and family that you show blatant disregard for! You manipulate my father, exile Mark from my company, and even try to keep me from the bedside of a dying child. So I can only conclude that you don't want me, you want someone else—someone with my chemistry but the personality of a lap dog. And what makes this whole thing worse is when I look at you…" her voice cracked, full of exasperation and despair. "All I can think about is _sex_. My body responds to you like it has never has responded to anyone or anything. Damn me if I can't help but falling into your arms like some trashy novel heroine every time I see you."

Her rant stripped him raw on the insides. Every fiber of his being ached for her confusion. To him, it was so simple; she was his lifemate and he was hers. They were destined to be together. But to her, she was part of a family that he was decimating to get to her. He just couldn't let her be in danger. Every shred of logic and common sense and every primal instinct demanded that he protect her at all costs. But he was beginning to think he didn't know enough about her and her world to do the job right. He hoped he hadn't completely ruined his chances yet.

One sentence caught his attention. "What do you mean _already marked_?" he asked softly.

Buoyed up by frustration and adrenalin, she turned her back to him and pulled her shirt off. Isaac's breath stopped as his eyes took in the soft slight curves of her back from the waist up. He wanted to kiss every tiny bump in the trail vertebra. Then he saw the ornate lily on her shoulder blade, dark ocher against her cinnamon skin. Her cream colored bra strap crossed one petal, but it was as large as his palm and refused to be hidden.

"See it?" she demanded. "That's not a natural birthmark, is it? My mother had the same mark, and her mother before her. I'm marked. By a night hunter. So what do you think of me now?"

The odds of such a birthmark appearing randomly were functionally impossible. Even then, few Carpathians had the ability to modify genetics to make such a mark hereditary. That her line had been touched by a Carpathian generations ago explained a little of how she might be a lifemate to another Carpathian now. The danger was in who had left the mark, if he was safely mated or dead, or turned vampire. Perhaps the same vampire had taken Sarina's mother from her because of the mark.

He came up behind her, and circled her shoulders in his arms. He just couldn't stay away from her any more. She was on the brink of hysteria and he needed to comfort her. "It would not matter if you had a hundred marks from a hundred ancient hunters; I would fight them all to the death for a smile from you. It is I that is not good enough for you. I am a wraith wraped in haunting shadows, and you brush them all away with a whisper. I am humbled by your compassion and honesty. I do not want a lap dog. I want you, with all your quirks and your spitfire personality. I love your passion hidden under your casual zen exterior. You are like a lantern in the night, and island haven in the middle of a storm. I cannot go on in this world without you." He stroked her head absently, soothingly. "I apologize for my…overreaction to the minor threat to your safety. I was so afraid of loosing you that I lost perspective. Fear is not something I have felt since my earliest youth. It is difficult to control."

"So what now?" Sarina tried to demand, but her voice wavered as her heartbeat accelerated. Relief washed through her, making her weaker still. She knew she could never refuse his affections, even if she wanted to. She just hoped she wasn't making a terrible mistake.

"Now, I would very much like to show you how it is _supposed_ to be between lifemates," he whispered, his hot breath in her ear sending prickles down her spine.

"And how is that?" she returned, her voice breathy and sexy.

"I listen to you. I show you that I love you. How much I love you. I worship you with my body. I dedicate my life to your happiness," he replied. He kissed the top of her shoulder. "You are so fragile that I am afraid I might break you, but if I do not touch you, I might go insane."

"What about…my father…and Mark…and…" she tried to continue the fight even as her bones and willpower melted under Isaac's lips.

"Your father will be waiting in the new house for us, and I will make reparations there. Mark is welcome to visit, and considering his abilities, I might even offer him a job," he whispered softly.

"And an apology?" she gasped as he nibbled on the base of her neck.

"Perhaps," he consented. "The rest of it can wait until morning, mein liebe."

Sarina trembled in his arms. Her body was on fire, and his touch soothed the flame but left left her craving more. With her last ounce of discipline, she gritted out a final query. "Will you ever let me go? Will this...thing ever stop? Can I ever be normal again?"

Isaac paused in his attentions and held very still. He couldn't tell if she was looking for a way out or trying to confirm the finality of fate. He replied honestly, "To answer your questions in reverse order, we have exchanged blood once, and that cannot be undone. Even if we never exchanged blood again, you will always have one foot in the Carpathian world. The passion between us will not stop so long as we are alive. I have heard from other mated Carpathian couples that the mating heat never diminishes—if anything it increases, although I imagine it becomes easier to control with time, for it it were not so the fiercest and most powerful of us would be completely...er, vulnerable."

Sarina laughed at the thought of all the big bad night hunters turning into uncontrollable nymphomaniacs at the sight of their spouses. Strangely, that gave her some hope that she could still control her life. Isaac's heart stuttered at her laugh and musings. Finally something eased the ache of dread from her heart.

"If you would truly be happy without me," he continued, "I would gladly leave this life and wait for you in the next. But I hope," he whispered tenderly as his hand slipped under her bra cup and caressed her soft and perfect breast, "that you might allow me to make you as happy as I can, to fulfill all your dreams and desires and wildest fantasies, before you make such a pronouncement."

Sarina moaned as he unhooked her bra and firmly massaged her breasts. The cottony undergarment fell away and she leaned back into him, her only retreat from his marauding hands. He took the opportunity to kiss the line from her shoulder up her neck to her ear. Her hands reached behind her, and her fingers dug into his thighs. He groaned and nipped her shoulder in response. She cried out and jerked away, but he held her close, knowing her protest was from being startled more than an actual objection.

"Love me enough to save me," he whispered. "The darkness creeps over my soul until I hardly know it is still there."

"How?" she gasped.

"Let me bind us together, in the way of my people," he breathed against her earlobe.

Sarina went stiff in his arms. "Does this have something to do with those words you were screaming at me as I escaped into the ocean?" she asked softly.

Isaac nodded slightly against her scalp. "I was desperate, and wanted to keep you by my side at all costs. Now I know that is folly, and it is to your side that I must tie myself."

"Are these the ritual binding words you were talking about before?" she persisted.

"Yes," he murmured, his soft voice holding only honesty.

"Say them," she begged huskily. "You said before you needed them. I gave myself to you then, and I'm not going to back out now."

Isaac's heart melted in his chest. Truly, he did not deserve such a selfless and compassionate woman, and yet she was the only one who could save him from the beast inside. He very gently turned her around and let her settle on the bed so that he could look down into her open face. He supported his weight on his hands, one on either side of her head. He kept his pelvis to one side of hers to minimize any discomfort, even though he desperately wanted her legs wrapped around his waist.

"I claim you as my lifemate," he intoned sincerely. "I belong to you; I offer my life for you. I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care."

Sarina felt the ragged edges of her soul finding purchase with his. The awkward feeling from the incomplete binding was replaced by the feeling of being whole. She hadn't realized she'd lived her entire life only half alive until Isaac came into her world. Now her skin sizzled with his close proximity, and she felt more aware than she ever had before.

"Those are beautiful words," she murmured, tracing his angular jawline with her fingers. Her touch was so innocent, yet it made him ache with lust.

"And you are a beautiful woman," he replied. He was afraid to move, as aroused as he was, for fear of his tenuous hold on his control shattering.

They stared hungrily at each other for a long moment before she finally said, "That can't be the end of it. What's next?"

Isaac laughed huskily. "Next,_ mein liebe_, I spend the night making love to you."

"Mmm, I like that idea," she replied, rubbing one thigh along his. She could see the erotic images in his mind and was eager to experiment with them.

Without another word, he descended to take possession of her lips with his. He kissed her, long and hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she arched towards him. He kissed his way down her throat and chest, pausing to take first one nipple in his mouth then the other. She moaned in delight, cradling his head. Without pausing in his ravishment, he pealed her jeans off her legs.

Her scent called to him and he continued kissing down her stomach, over the ridges of her hips, to the source of the scent, barely covered by a simple cotton thong. He clawed at it, pulled it down, his teeth biting through the thin strings so he could peal it away from her sensitive parts. Chemo had stripped her of the normal pubic hair, leaving only soft flesh for him to nuzzle. She smelled so delicious, like creamy honey and spice. His tongue darted between her sensitive folds and she instantly cried out in ecstasy, her fingers tunneling into his long hair. Isaac lapped at her wet channel, savoring her unique and maddening flavor. He couldn't get enough of it. Sarina was writhing under his tongue, moaning with excitement.

She couldn't take it any more, he was driving her insane. She tugged on his hair, wishing he would come back up her body. He obliged, his clothes dismissed with a thought, his hair-roughened chest sliding up her body. The friction seemed to light a full-body fire between them. She opened her legs with the intent of trapping him close to her without realizing that she was offering up her vulnerable innocence.

His erection nudged the entrance of her hot channel. Instantly, it was slick with her arousal. With one hand holding his weight off of her, he stroked her body with the other. When he reached her thighs, his hand slipped to the inside, and he slowly inserted one finger deep into her, testing her readiness. She moaned with pleasure. He stroked gently before adding a second finger, scissoring them to gently stretch her folds. She ground her hips against his hand, little mewing noises indicating her desire. He withdrew his fingers and once again his member sat at her entrance.

Watching her face, still terrified that he might break her, he eased into her part way. She gasped and held her breath while she adjusted to his girth. Her tight heat sucked all coherent thought from his mind. He was only aware of the desperate need to protect her from his equally desperate lusts. He pushed forward, impaling her slowly. Her hips moved and bucked under him. He pushed deeper still, waiting for some virginal resistance. He found none as he pressed his full length into her. His confusion was wiped away by the sheer ecstasy of her muscles milking him. Without thought, he nuzzled her breast before sinking his fangs into it. Pleasure arched through them both like lightening.

He started a slow rhythm, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to better accommodate him. She was drowning in pleasure as he withdrew and pushed forward. He sealed the small holes in her breast and slashed his own chest right over his heart. Before she could recoil, he pushed her mouth against him. She willingly lapped, sucked, drank his rich, ancient blood. The feel of her mouth moving a gainst him was almost more than he could bear. Gently, he disengaged her, licked his own finger, and sealed the wound. Then he kissed her, their tastes mingling as their tongues dueled.

Delicious friction spurred them both forward towards orgasm, beyond all sense and reason. They clung to each other as she screamed and arched against him, her muscles squeezing him until he shuddered with release. Sarina felt frozen, her back permanently bowed by pleasure. Isaac panted and gasped before rolling to one side. After a few more moments, she found the energy to unwind her muscles and curl next to him, pillowing her head on his muscular shoulder. He gathered her into his arms and rained kisses on her face.

This was his treasure, more precious than anything else on the face of the earth.

Then the memories floated to the top of his mind. There had been no hymen, and while he was grateful their first time was not painful for her, he had been in her mind and knew she had not had never been intimate with a man before.

Sarina laughed softly. "I know what you're thinking," she teased in a sing-song voice. "I've picked up your little mind reading trick."

Isaac smiled at her, proud and surprised that she was such a quick and resourceful learner. "Then perhaps you can answer my unspoken question."

She laughed again, a blush stealing up her cheeks. "Remember when I said you turned me on unlike anyone or any_thing?_" she reminded him. "Well, for a long time, I was curious about...you know...what went on. I'd heard the usual from classmates and such, but I knew I didn't want to risk actual sex with a boy—and none of them were even slightly attractive. So I...picked up a few things...and experimented..." she trailed of, pink as an autumn rose. She turned away from him, embarrassed.

Isaac arched a brow. In her mind were several toys of different shapes and textures, some with battery-powered motors, various lubricants and lotions. He reached over and gently turned her face back to him. "I am pleased you chose a safe method of personal exploration. Perhaps we shall experiment together."

"Seriously?" she gulped. "You're not mad? You don't think I'm kinky or twisted or totally self absorbed?"

Isaac chuckled. "How could I think such, when you respond to my slightest touch?" he asked. He cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple just to prove a point. She let out a whimper and pushed into the pressure. "For tonight, however, I hope you will be content with me."

"After all that, you're still fishing for compliments?" she demanded. "That was only the most amazing thing in the history of sex, and you expect me to only be _content_?"

"Reasonably speaking," he smiled.

"You are some piece of work!" she teased. "I'm comatose. Leave me alone."

"Never," he whispered, meaning it. "Never, ever."


	11. Chapter 11

_I am not dead! Just alternately deceased. Apologies for the delay seem a little redundant at this point, but still I offer them. Forgive me by leaving reviews?  
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Chapter 11

"Gone?" Felix Webber demanded. "What do you mean, _gone?_"

"When I got to her apartment, she wasn't there," the sniveling rookie explained in a rush. "I watched all night for her, but she never showed up. I went to talk to the land lady this morning, and she said that Tobin's apartment would be available to rent by the end of the week. Said she'd moved out suddenly."

"No one moves that quickly," Felix muttered to himself. "Did you get to see her apartment?"

"I glanced in as the Salvation Army pickup crew were removing the sofa. Seems like everything that wasn't personal was donated," the younger man reasoned.

"Then the question is, where is she? And why did she go?" Felix growled. "Perhaps her 'sort-of' boyfriend initiated the move. And if he is what I suspect, she could be dead or worse."

"What's worse than dead?" wondered the rookie out loud.

"Being trapped as the living dead, under the thumb of a monster that preys upon the blood of the innocent," Felix snapped.

The rookie winced. Felix waved a hand and dismissed him from the office. He needed space to think. It was going to be difficult to track down Miss Sarina Tobin. He didn't know where she was going or even who her boyfriend was. Just that he was "tall, dark, and drop-dead-georgous."He doubted that he would find a forwarding address, and if Sarina had joined the ranks of the undead, she would never see another human doctor. Perhaps her father--but then he had just been released from prison and would probably lay low for a few months.

All Felix could do would be to put a tracer on her bank accounts and see if she popped up anywhere. He cursed his luck again. What were the odds that she would leave town just hours before he had her under surveillance? Bizarrely remote. That's what. Perhaps he should conduct an internal investigation to see if there were any moles in his branch. Terrorizing his coworkers always put him in a better mood, anyway.

It was a pity that such a delicious and beautiful woman would be ravaged by a minion of evil. She would have been so delightful to ravage himself.

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Sarina woke when the sun set. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the smells of earth, sea, and Isaac. She smiled to herself. When had she come to think of him as something as natural and compelling as the elements? She could feel him staring at her naked form thinly veiled by the sheer silk sheet. She didn't mind. In fact, she luxuriated in his adoring, hungry gaze.

Out of old habit, she stretched, scrubbed her eyes, and ran her fingers over her scalp--and discovered it as prickly as a cactus! She bolted upright, her hands still exploring her head. It was bristly, like day old stubble, but it was real!

"Is everything alright, mein liebe?" Isaac asked lazily.

"I-I have hair!" she cried in disbelief.

Isaac's hand reached up from the bed to brush her scalp lovingly. "That can hardly be called hair," he chuckled.

Sarina smacked him playfully, but her spirits couldn't be dampened in the slightest. "At this rate, I might have real eyebrows before the end of the week!"

He laughed again. He had never seen someone so enthused over eyebrows. He sat up behind her and whispered in her ear, "Will you allow me to show you what real hair is?"

She trembled with the erotic sensations his hot breath created. She managed to nod, her heart pounding like a kendo drum. He gently rested his fingertips on her bald head. He then traced delicate and complex patterns over her scalp, and she could feel the tingling as power seeped into her skin and hair follicles.

Slowly, a dark curtain dropped over her eyes. Amazed, she pushed her hair behind her ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Her hair continued to grow, down to her shoulders, to brush her exposed nipples, and eventually to pool in her lap. Isaac let out his breath and tried not to show the amount of energy growing her hair had drained from his body. He needed to feed, and feed well. Hopefully, tonight, she would consent to the final conversion.

Sarina ran her fingers through her new hip-length hair in absolute wonder. She scrambled out of bed to twirl, testing out the weight of her new tresses, nude but for the straight, ebony veil falling around the curves of her body. Isaac's laboring heart stilled as he watched her lithe body, glowing with health, twirl in the dim light. She looked more nymph-like than ever. Unexpectedly, she stopped and then sprang onto him, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered with tears in her voice.

"I would move the stars for you," he whispered back. "I love you."

"I know," she kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, careful not to pull on her new hair. He kissed her back and drew her on top of him. Naturally, she straddled his hips as she returned his kisses, her hair caressed his skin like strands of silk. She smiled when his erection pushed against her hot core. She rocked her hips back and forth, teasing him by brushing her wet folds against his raging hard-on. He gritted his teeth against the instinct to surge forward and penetrate her. He wanted her to feel in control of their relationship, in the hopes that she would give him her heart in exchange for the one he had laid at her feet.

"You want me, don't you?" she asked, gazing deep into his green eyes.

"I crave you," he corrected, his voice raw with lust. "More than air or blood, I ache for you deep in my soul.

Sarina laughed, not in mockery, but in sheer delight that she had such power over such a powerful man. She slowly impaled herself on his ridged length and savored his tormented groan. Unable to hold himself back a moment longer, Isaac rolled Sarina beneath him and drove hard into her hot depths of ecstasy. His rhythm was feverish with the Carpathian mating instinct and her body welcomed the urgent friction.

He bent his head to her and inhaled her unique scent. He would know it anywhere even though he couldn't identify it as anything but _her_. He thought that _she_ must be how flowers smelled underwater. His teeth scraped over her pulse, but he resisted the temptation as he was still afraid for her health. She cried out with pleasure and arched into him. He turned his razor-sharp attention to butter-soft kisses down her neck and shoulders.

Orgasm approached like a tidal wave, and swept them both away in sheer, liquid pleasure. Her contracting and writhing body under his sent him careening over the precipice, filling the corners of her caverns with the evidence of his lust.

Isaac dropped to one side of her spent body, still half covering her, but careful not to crush her with his exhausted weight.

Sarina gasped for a minute before she managed to say, "Yeah, you're a total sex god. Adonis. That's you."

"Adonis is actually a friend of mine," Isaac replied. "Adonis Laroux."

"Gave you a few pointers, did he?" she teased.

"Actually, yes, he did," he admitted. "He said, 'come to America with me, and you might find your lifemate.' He was right; I did."

"Will I ever meet this insightful friend?" she sighed.

"I hope so. You would like his lifemate," he speculated. "She is just as feisty as you, and a brilliant geneticist. Jas and his lifemate are also in the country, but she held a more dubious profession until recently. With the Savage brothers and the Dark Troubadours, perhaps we might have a small party and you could come to know other women who have been lifemates to men far more trying than I."

She giggled. "We probably won't have anything in common and spend all our time complaining about our domineering men."

Isaac arched an eyebrow. "Then perhaps I shouldn't introduce you."

She laughed louder, after-glow making her deliriously happy. She picked up several images in his mind, the scientist, the "dubious" Goth, the two golden Savage men with their mates. "But I want to meet all of them. The geneticist, the stripper, even all the singers. And--is that Alex Savage, famous videogame designer? Her art is fabulous! I definitely want to meet her."

He covered his eyes with his hand, dramatically. "What have I done?"

"Oh, come on. You know it was inevitable that I eventually meet all these women," Sarina insisted. "You might not be able to take me home to your mother for her approval, but surely there is _some _parental-type-unit I get to embarrass you in front of."

"We are not having this conversation," he said. "It is over, and will never be revisited."

"What? How can you shut me down like that?" she cried.

"Like this," he said and descended to kiss her passionately and deeply. No sooner had their lips touched than the fires of lust roared to life. He made love to her again, again resisting the terrible desire to take her blood. He was so hungry, and she smelled so good. She seemed to sense the danger she was in, because after another explosive climax, she didn't start teasing him again.

Sarina managed to find the strength to roll out of bed and slowly walk to one of the shallow pools of collected rain water. At its deepest point, it didn't reach over her knees, but that was fine with her. Any deeper and she might have drowned. She sat down in the middle of the pool and used her hands to splash cool water over her fevered body. It wasn't salt water, but it was still water, and all water was home to her. It quickly restored her strength and finally she could stand with confidence.

"Now what am I supposed to wear?" she asked, genuinely mystified. "My clothes seem to have disappeared."

"How about this?" Isaac passed her a long, clingy cotton dress that changed from rich gold at the top to vermillion in the middle and scarlet at the bottom. Smiling she slipped into it.

"I feel like I'm impersonating Pele," she said, looking at the warm colors falling gently around her body.

"You are far more gentle than a volcano goddess," he insisted.

She looked at him with a knowing smile. "You haven't seen me PMS yet."

Isaac just smiled in return and wrapped his arms around her. He was already dressed in faded jeans and a wonderfully soft green button-down shirt. It made him look ridiculously sexy. She hooked her hands behind his neck, and tossed her new, long black hair.

He flew up and out of the caves, and towards civilization. He needed to feed if he was going to get through this night. He descended on a beach and reluctantly let Sarina slip from his embrace.

"Please, do not wander too far," he asked. "I will only be gone a moment."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I must feed--"

"I know that," she waved away his carefully planned explanation about the need to regularly consume human blood. "I meant _where_ are you going? North? South? Inland? Do you have a mosquito lounge or something like that around here?"

Isaac smiled despite himself. Leave it to _his_ lifemate to want to know his exact location but not even bat an eyelash at what he would be doing there. "North. A little east. There is a vista point that mischievous teenagers frequent. Every once in a while, I visit and…you could say I 'scare them straight.'"

She chuckled. "Using your powers for good, I see."

"Always," he promised.

"Alright, I'll wait here and I'll even behave myself. I won't try any body surfing, or anything," she vowed. "You go grab a bite--but make sure it's low in cholesterol."

"Are you going to lecture me on healthy feeding?" he asked in mock horror.

"At your age, you need to watch what you eat," she replied, shaking her finger at him to emphasize her seriousness. Then she dissolved into laughter. Impulsively she hugged him. "Just be careful and come back soon."

"I will always come back for you," he said as he returned the hug. With a final kiss, he streaked away into the night to find his prey, wishing he was already done with the suddenly-mundane task of feeding.


	12. Chapter 12

_I noticed that I haven't had any traffic in about a week. I did get one review in that time, so I know that can't be accurate. So I'll trade you another chapter for more review so I can see if there is anyone outhtere still interested in this story. ^_^*  
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Chapter 12

Sarina walked up the shore, admiring the silvery crests of waves in the moonlight. Isaac hadn't thought to provide her with shoes, but she didn't mind. The sand was still warm from the sun and felt absolutely delicious between her toes.

She was oddly hungry, yet not hungry. She knew she needed nutrition, but the thought of food made her stomach queasy. It would probably be best to wait until Isaac got back and explained, because she was certain that her slight nausea was caused by all the bodily fluids they'd been sharing lately.

She was just wondering how long it would take for Isaac to feed--after all, drawing a few pints from small puncture wounds would take more than a few minutes, and he might need more than one donor--when she felt someone on the beach with her.

Or rather, she felt some_thing._ Once before had she encountered such a potently evil thing. It wasn't quite a smell, but her nose wrinkled in disgust. It was like rotten meat and burning iron and tangled spider webs. She looked around for the source of the evil, even as she waded into the surf. It was a good bet that since the sea had protected her from Isaac, it could protect her from this new threat. At any rate, she knew instinctively that it was always wise to be ready to run when dealing with something of this ilk.

Then she saw it. He looked like a typical surfer hottie in board shorts and wavy blond hair, but she knew it was a glamour. She could see his true features ghosting under the hansom exterior, rotten and black. His hair wasn't sandy blond, but greasy grey. And even the glamour couldn't cover the telltale stench of old blood.

"Beautiful evening," he said, his voice thick and syrupy sweet.

"It was," she replied smoothly._ Isaac, I have need of you. _

She heard him curse in at least three languages._ I am on my way. Stay in the water and if he tries to chase you, slip under the waves as quickly as possible, _Isaac instructed.

"Walk with me," he invited. She felt the deadly compulsion in his voice fly past her and drown in the ocean.

"No," she said. "Not tonight. Not ever."

She sent back the impression of rolling her eyes, even though she never once took her gaze off the abomination trying to seduce her.

"Come," he tried to command again. It was just as useless as the last time. He inhaled and snarled, his glamour starting to come apart at the edges. "COME!"

Sarina laughed at him. She couldn't help it. He was so pointless. He spent his entire existence running from justice, reveling in the pain of others even while the pain screaming through his own body almost drowned out everything else, cowering from the slightest beam of light and praying to the devil that their paths wouldn't cross just yet. She would pity him, except it would be a total waste of emotion.

The glamour completely fell off his face as he took a step towards her.

"Wet one toe in the ocean and you will regret it," she warned. "You have no idea what I am, but you already know I am stronger than your compulsion. Do you want to risk entering my domain?"

"Your domain?" he snarled. "What are you babbling about? I will drain every sweet drop of blood from your body and savor the echoes as your lifemate howls over your empty husk."

"Now, there you're wrong. Because my lifemate is right behind you," she taunted. The creature whirled. "Oops, you just missed him. He's over here now." Desperately the vampire looked around. Then he glared at Sarina.

"You're trying to confuse me," he accused venomously.

"Just giving you a little warning. Would you like me to say some words? Any last rites, perhaps?" she jeered.

He stepped closer, trying to act menacing. His foot came down just as a wave retreated.

"You're too close," she warned. "One more step and you'll be sorry."

He took the step. A wave rolled up and covered his feet. He screamed as he started to sink into the wet sand. He struggled to pull his feet out, but he couldn't. "What the hell?"

"You are in my domain now. And you are not welcome," she replied, her voice dropping an octave until it was the most terrible, seductive alto the monster had ever heard. "The more you fight, the tighter you will be trapped. And you will stay there just long enough to watch justice come for you."

He tried to shift into mist, the edges of his body blurring, but the ocean canceled out his power and kept him solid. He tried to shape shift into something with thinner legs, but again the ocean's influence thwarted him. For the first time in centuries, the vampire was truly terrified.

Suddenly, Isaac appeared in front of Sarina. She was not surprised but she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his middle, anchoring him to her and thus to the sea. "Justice has arrived," he said in a deep, hypnotic voice. _Mein liebe, you should escape under the water now._

_I won't leave you,_ she replied stubbornly.

"You are a coward. You use your woman to trap me and then hid behind her instead of fighting me with honor," the creature snarled.

"There is neither honor or cowardice facing one such as you," Isaac said simply. "Fighting you is unnecessary." _Go, now,_ he ordered, but just like the vampire, his compulsion was swallowed by the sea.

Electricity crackled over the surface of the ocean, mingling with the crashing waves. Like a million glowing threads, the power darted to towards the trapped vampire even as it avoided the place where Sarina and Isaac stood. It raced up the vampire's body as he screamed in torment. In a matter of seconds, the vampire was white with the power attacking his form. His chest burst as his heart burned within his body, the aquatic lightening arching out to catch and incinerate every drop of tainted blood. A few seconds later, he dissolved into ash, mixing with the sea foam as the waves retreated.

"He is gone," Isaac said.

"I know," Sarina replied.

"I should not have left you so exposed. I should have known he was in the area," Isaac apologized. "It is the first mistake I have made in hunting since I was a fledgling." He had been too hungry, too enamored with Sarina, too arrogant to sweep for the vampire.

"I was perfectly safe and you know it," she retorted. "With the sea at my back and you just a thought away, what could he have possibly done?"

If the vampire had known the dangers of the water, he might have levitated over it and plucked her from the serf like an eagle and a fish. He could have thrown demented mutated creatures at her. He could have used zombie minions to drag her from the serf. If she hadn't been in the protective embrace of the sea, Isaac didn't want to think of the things the vampire could have done in his absence.

"Plenty," he said simply. Then, "I did not know that you could call lightening from the depths, but I thank you for providing it," he commented, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"I didn't know I could do that either," she said, and without another word, she walked out of the surf and up the beach.

Isaac appeared in front of her. "You are censoring your thoughts, mein liebe. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said coolly. "Do you expect otherwise? My father was a black ops gunnery sergeant. I am not unfamiliar with the concept of necessary death."

"Not many are so collected after their first encounter with the vampire," he replied.

"He wasn't my first," she said. "I have seen his ilk before. When my mother died."

"Then I am sorry that you had to go through that again," Isaac tried to draw her into the shelter of his arms, but she stiffly resisted.

"Don't be sorry," she corrected. "Being eight years old and unable to do anything is a far cry from being twenty four and having the power to avenge her death."

"You are cold," he said, changing the subject. He conjured a thick, warm shawl, woven from natural fibers and wrapped her shoulders in it.

She shrugged out of it, wadded it up and threw it at him. "Leave me alone, will you? You're more fussy than a mother hen!"

She marched down the beach, thinking only of towering sea cliffs to keep him from delving deeper into her mind.

"Mein liebe, what have I done?" he cried as he followed her.

"Just the same thing you always do," she snapped. "You get so worked up over my safety that you ignore me. You realize you just scolded me and guilt tripped yourself in the same breath for a random piece of scum on the beach? You don't trust me to take care of myself--you just don't trust me!"

"I have fought the vampire for centuries," he said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. "It is not a profession any woman would want or need to witness, especially if I can prevent it. In fact, it is my duty to keep that 'scum,' as you so aptly described him, as far from you as possible."

"Yes, but then you agonize over it like some ancient emo. I was fine. I am fine."

"You admitted yourself that you did not know before this encounter that you could call energy up from the depths to defend yourself," he pointed out.

"But I knew that I'd be safe. I'm of the sea folk--the sea protects its own. I may not know all the particular details of every way the sea can protect me but I knew that it would. Just like I knew that you would come as fast as you could to protect me. As soon as I saw that vampire, I knew he was as good as dead. It was as certain as the next tide. In fact, his fate was _written_ in the pattern of the waves. Through me, the sea provided what you needed to exterminate that monster, saving you the time and energy it would take to call up an electrical storm. Through my direction, the sea kept him from shifting into anything that could harm either of us. I am a living prism for the unbridled lifeforce of the world's oceans. But you treat me like some glass paperweight!"

"Mein liebe--"

"Don't you _mein liebe_ me!" she cried as she whirled around. "And don't give me some lame you-didn't-know spcheal because it doesn't matter. There is so much in this world that you _can't_ know, that you just have to take on _faith._ And I'm one of those things. You want to know what you can do to gain my love? Have faith in me!"

Isaac paused a moment to let her words sink in. She was so different. So unique. Some other Carpathian women insisted on helping their mates in the hunt or pestered them about frivolous rights. But his woman wanted only his faith in her.

"I need you," he said simply as he reached for her. "Without you, I--"

"Would be a monster, blah blah _blah!_" she mocked. "Are you more afraid for me or yourself?"

That stopped him dead in his tracks. She was his anchor, his guardian angel. She was the only thing now that stood between him and the eternal darkness. But her question rang in his ears, along with all the warnings about lifemates and vampires. What had kept him going for so many centuries, so alone except for a few childhood friends, who had been equally stripped of their emotions by the demands of the demon inside them? Not love. Not duty or honor.

Faith.

Faith that somewhere, somehow, his lifemate would save him from a fate worse than death.

"I have had faith in you since the moment I knew you could exist, nearly a thousand years ago," he said softly. "Now that you stand before me, you are almost too good to be true, and I am half afraid you will disappear like a dream. Up until now, I have sheltered you as I would shelter a dream, a wisp of imagination, a fragile reflection of hope. I have given you my entire being, laid my existence at your feet, because I want to spend eternity with you. Yet you hold yourself apart from me, shielding your thoughts. Out of courtesy, I have not pressed further. But I beg you now, give me something more than this dream to have faith in or I will only continue to shelter it the way I have been."

"I have given you my blood and accepted yours--twice. I have willingly allowed you to bind us together with the words of your kind. I have given you my body--my virginity--what more do you want?" she demanded.

"Let me in," he asked simply. "Just let me into your mind and heart."

Sarina faltered. She hadn't truly let him in yet. Oh, his old world charm and the sheer chemistry between them was wearing down her defenses, but she was her father's daughter after all. She could be as stubborn as anyone, centuries of experience notwithstanding. So far, she had fought tooth and nail with herself to keep him as distant as possible.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Alright. I--I'll try." And she opened her arms and her mind to him.

Isaac stepped forward physically so that he could lace his fingers through hers while he stepped forward mentally to investigate her mind. It was like diving into a warm sea. She was so alive. Everyone she touched, every child she healed, ever one of her father's trusted friends, had a place in her heart and her life. So did he. He was surprised and delighted to discover that she was enamored with him. So many of her thoughts revolved around him, like huge schools of glittering fish. He was a permanent fixture in her heart, the hard and dependable bedrock of her life. Her father was like the sun and moon, governing the tides and whims of circumstances, but he had moved into the one hole in her heart that she hadn't known existed until he had filled it perfectly.

She was still uncertain about the stability of their relationship. It had progressed so quickly that couldn't it break apart just as quickly? Especially if he continued to drive wedges between her family? At the same time, she knew she was doomed to always choose him above her friends and even her father--with the possible exception of any children they had, but that idea was too terrifying a possibility to examine just yet. Love wasn't a thing or an emotion. It was a state of being.

Isaac gently pulled back, his face glowing with a smile. Sarina smiled back, a little self consciously.

"Mein liebe, mein hertz, mein seele," he sighed as he gathered her into his arms. "You are more wonderful than I ever could have dreamed."

"You're not so bad yourself," she muttered even as she melted into his embrace.


	13. Chapter 13

_I know it's been a while, but I hope you like it. Finally, some action!  
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Chapter 13

Isaac flew with Sarina most of the night. They landed on one of Isaac's estates. A beautiful lighthouse stood on a hill overlooking the sea, embraced by an elegant manor. Sarina was excited to see her father's classic mustang in the drive way. Isaac was less thrilled. He knew the old marine would make life difficult for a while on account of how they had parted ways the previous evening.

Inside was warm and rustic, just as Isaac had designed it. When he had first employed a company to decorate the interior of the remodeled lighthouse keeper's house, he hadn't known who would be visiting, so he'd expressed the desire for simplicity. Now he appreciated the soothing blues and beiges, and the understated sea-theme that ran through the house. It was appropriate but not overstated.

Michael Tobin was sitting at the wet bar, holding a beer, two empty bottles beside him. Isaac's eyes narrowed, uncomfortable with the thought of his father-in-law driven to drink with worry over his daughter. Michael's eyes also narrowed as soon as he saw Isaac.

Sarina ignored both of them and threw her arms around her father. "Hey dad! I missed you."

"I missed you too, pumpkin. New wig?" Michael asked, hugging is daughter back.

"Nope." She grinned and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It's the real thing. Go on, pull on it!"

Michael gently tugged her hair, grudgingly amazed. "Your boyfriend did this, I assume."

"Yes, he did. Don't scowl like it's a bad thing," she scolded. "I have my _real hair_ back! No more neon wigs!"

"That _is_ a blessing," Michael laughed. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Oh, and by the way, I asked some of the old company to come by tomorrow night."

"Really? A reunion?" Sarina almost squealed with joy. Then she got a strange look on her face that was evil parts mischievous, sarcastic, and exasperated. "This is totally my senior prom all over again, isn't it?"

Isaac felt a twinge of trepidation at the thought of an undisclosed number of marines just dropping in.

"Except fewer adolescents," Michael replied, unperturbed.

"Oh, goody," Isaac muttered unable to muster a single shred of enthusiasm.

After a little more tense conversation, Michael bid the couple goodnight and retired to the guestroom. Isaac escorted Sarina to a cavern deep below the basement.

"You really have a thing for dirt, don't you," teased Sarina.

Isaac smiled indulgently. "The earth is to me what the sea is to you. It rejuvenates me, heals me, whispers secrets in my sleep."

"Do you stay on top or can you survive without air?" she wondered.

"When I need to, I can bury myself in the rich soil, shut down my lungs and heart so I do not need to breathe," he explained. "But I do not suffer when I sleep above the earth's embrace."

"You make it sound so poetic. I wish I could sleep in the sea, but I'm just not strong enough," she sighed, wistfully.

"The dawn will be upon us in an hour or so," he reminded her with a wave to the large carved mahogany bed draped in silk sheets.

"You think we'll be satisfied in an hour?" she asked with a seductive wink.

Isaac wanted to groan aloud with the sudden heat pooling in his groin. Why had fate cursed—or blessed—him with such a minx? He went to her because he had no choice. Her body welcomed him and they made love until she sensed the sun peeking over the horizon.

"How curious!" she exclaimed. "How can I know the sun is rising when we're so far underground?"

"That is part of the Carpathian heritage," Isaac murmured, his face buried in her silken tresses. "Which you now share through our blood exchange."

"Cool," she yawned as she snuggled down to sleep, wrapped in Isaac's arms.

Isaac watched her as she fell asleep, marveling that she was truly his. She was made of pure spunk, he was sure of it. He could not imagine loving a softer, gentler woman—but her compassion in no way compromised her spark and spirit and courage. He ached to bring her fully into his world. Her hunger gnawed at him, but she hadn't said a word about it. She was used to the hungry-but-not-hungry feeling from the chemo therapy. Isaac was concerned. What if she wasn't strong enough to endure the conversion? He couldn't bear to put her through that kind of pain after her recent illness. But he was also having trouble not sampling her sweet blood every time they made love. He craved her taste with the same single-minded need a drowning man had for air.

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The next evening, Isaac woke to the discordant thrum of fourteen heartbeats in his house. One was his. One was Sarina's. One was Michael's. Nine belonged a group of strange men and women. And two were so tiny and faint they could only be babies in the womb.

"Wake, mein liebe," he whispered to Sarina. "You have an appointment to torment me this rising."

She laughed as she opened her eyes. "You're right! I get to introduce you to the rest of my family."

Isaac provided fresh clothes for each of them, a fresh dress for Sarina and comfortable jeans and button-down shirt for himself. Then they ascended the stairs to meet the guests. As soon as she saw the first visitor, Sarina gave a cry of joy and ran to hug the man. Isaac clamped down hard on his jealous instincts. With Michael providing mental barriers for everyone, he couldn't read the thoughts of man who's arms were around Sarina, but the body language and expressions they exchanged were those of close but plutonic friends.

"Oh, Sam, you need to meet Isaac, my boyfriend," she finally introduced him. Sam lean but muscular, of Hispanic decent. "Isaac, this is Sam Cobb. He's our mechanics specialist. This guy is amazing. Tanks, choppers, sea-doo's, you name it, he can fix it."

"Ello, mate," the man said warmly as he shook hands briefly with Isaac. His eyes gave Isaac a thorough once over. And then a twice-over. "Nice to meet the bloke who finally stole lil' Sari's heart."

"Bad, Sam," Sarina scolded. "You know he's mine."

"Just appreciatin' the scenery," Sam defended himself.

Sarina gave him a playful glare before they moved on. _Sam is gay,_ she informed Isaac along their private mental connection. _And this is the first time he's ever approved of my taste in men._

_As I recall, mein liebe,_ he replied, a little relieved he had not needlessly disemboweled the man on sight, _you did not have much choice in the matter._

_Don't remind me,_ she retorted as they approached the second guest. "Isaac Liederman, meet Stephanie and Egan Doyle. They're expecting twins in a few months."

"Nice to meet you," Stephanie said, one hand protectively over her swollen womb. She was a stocky brunette, with a blizzard of freckles and a cupid's bow mouth. She was confidant, and the only thing fragile looking about her was her pregnancy.

"Likewise," Isaac said, nodding in respect.

"I trust Mike has already given you the standard ultimatum?" Egan asked, expectantly. Dark haired and grey eyed, Egan had a scar on one side of his face that ran from nose to jaw. It gave him a perpetual smirk.

"Ultimatum?" Isaac repeated, slightly confused.

"Hurt our girl and he will rip off your balls, shove them down your throat, and rip them out again through your navel," Egan replied as casually as if he was talking about the weather.

"EGAN!" Sarina and Stephanie cried at the same time.

"I had not heard that version of it yet," Isaac admitted diplomatically.

"Well, that one is my specialty," Egan smiled crookedly. "Just take care of her."

"Natrually," Isaac promised, and then took the opportunity to embarrass Sarina and Egan. " I cannot live without her. She is the reason I draw breath. My sun, moon, and stars. I would gladly rip out my own heart and present it on a silver platter if I thought it would make her happy."

"Isaac!" Sarina cried.

"Aww, how sweet," Stephanie crooned. Egan scowled, but didn't say anymore.

"Come on," Sarina grumbled as she tugged on Isaac's arm. She led him over to a trio of people. "Alright, This is Phoebe, Han, and Chip."

"You're not human," Phoebe accused. She was a tall, athletic African woman with large, pouty lips, and short cornrows.

"No more than you are," Isaac corrected her gently.

"You don't believe that," she replied with absolute certainty. "You're pureblood and you were just being condescending to a lower life form to maintain the peace."

Isaac narrowed his eyes suspiciously and redoubled his mental shields. He was a full-fledged Carpathian and this strange woman should not be able to read him so accurately.

"Ooh, did you see that anger?" Han asked. He was a lithe Asian man with an easy smile and hair that had not been cut in months.

"And the disgust," Phoebe said. "And see how he's squared his shoulders? He's trying to make himself look bigger, more dominant."

"Excuse me," Isaac rumbled, "What are you talking about?"

Phoebe grinned like a mischievous child. "When you said that you were no more non-human than I was, your left shoulder shrugged ever so slightly but your right one didn't, which means you have no confidence in what you just said. When I called your bluff, your brows dropped and your lip curled. The expression lasted for less than a tenth of a second, but it was still there. You've been without emotions so long that now they're creeping out all over the place."

"Phoebe is a behavioral psychologist," Sarina explained gently. "She can read the unconscious micro-expressions on your face"

"It doesn't matter if you are a night hunter or a mixed blood like us or a regular, boring human. Expressions are universal," Phoebe declared.

"An interesting choice of professions," Isaac said complimentarily while carefully keeping his features.

"I find it useful," Phoebe replied candidly.

"But she can't find an honest enough man to have her," Chip interjected for the first time. He was unremarkable with mousy hair, murky eyes, soft features, and medium olive skin.

Isaac smiled at Chip's words.

"What's so funny?" Phoebe growled.

"I was simply thinking," Isaac replied, honestly amused, "that if you had the good fortune of being a lifemate to a night hunter, both of you would know each other's deepest secrets."

"Then aren't I glad I'm not," Phoebe grumbled sarcastically.

"I'm getting you out of here before you cause more trouble," Sarina declared as she made a show of dragging him to the next guests. "Isaac, meet Devonte and Drusilla."

They were twins, fair haired and dark skinned with piercing blue eyes. "Hello," they said in unison.

"Greetings," Isaac replied.

"Dev and Drusi know just about everything about everything, and if they don't know it, they can find out. They have contacts at the Smithsonian, the British Museum, the Library of Alexandria—all the way down to the ugliest bar in the darkest alley of Shanghais," Sarina explained.

"That is astounding," Isaac said, truly impressed.

"It's what we do," the twins replied together.

"Is that all you do?" Isaac asked carefully.

The twins looked at each other. "It's all we need to do," said Drusilla.

"What else is there?" asked Devonte.

_Are they always like this?_ Isaac privately inquired.

_Only when you ask stupid questions,_ Sarina assured him. "Drusi, tell Isaac about the night hunters."

Drusilla closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke, "The night hunters, also known as Carpathians or Karpati, were nomads until they settled in the Carpathian mountain range in Eastern Europe. They are normally very hermit like, although through the ages they have gained a reputation for honor, loyalty, and duty. They—"

"That is enough," Isaac said gently. "I believe you."

"Many ancient Carpathians have developed a knack for hiding in plain view," Devonte continued, "Some of the most notable Carpathians include Mikhail Dubinsky, the oil-sheik of Eastern Europe, Lucien and Gabriel Daratrazanoff, the infamous De La Cruize brothers of South America—"

"How is it you know so much?" Isaac demanded. It was disconcerting to hear so much of what should have been a secret history come from these unknown persons.

"The only way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself," the twins intoned, shrugging in unison.

"Wise words," Isaac conceded.

"I think we should go see my dad now," Sarina suggested, sensing Isaac's genuine distress. She tugged on his arm until he followed over to where Michael and Mark were standing by the window. The young marine glared daggers at Isaac, but refrained from saying anything.

"Isaac," Michael said in a low but serious voice. "I wanted to show you some of the forces at my command, but I'm afraid that by bringing them here and shielding them from your psychic interigation, I have endangered us all."

"Dad, what's going on?" Sarina asked, paling visibly.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin," Michael sighed as he stared out the window. "I had to use your debit card about 50 miles from here to get gasoline. I didn't think anyone would connect that pit stop with this house, but apparently I was wrong."

"What's out there?"

"I'm not sure who they are, but they're bad news," Mark growled.

Alarmed, Isaac threw out his senses. It was difficult to get a read, like pushing through molasses or seeing through jello. Finally, he caught one familiar brain pattern. Felix Webber. "It seems the Morrison Foundation has found us," he said softly but somehow it was all the more menacing for the gentleness. "Get everyone out. I'll handle them."

"No!" Sarina cried, wrapping both arms around Isaac as if to bodily hold him to her.

"It's too late," Michael said. "They have the place surrounded. We might be able to get to the ocean, but last I checked—and make no mistake, I checked everything—your boyfriend didn't have a boat on hand."

"I'll send for one," Isaac replied.

"How are you going to do that?" Mark snapped.

Isaac turned his coldest stare on the young marine. "I am not without friends in the area."

"Well, do it quick," Mark said. "They're going to make a move in about 10 minutes."


	14. Chapter 14

_Finally! I've been swamped lately with work, school, family, NaNoWriMo, several troubled friends, one wedding, and a pirate-themed web comic two of my best friends and I are going to start up. But at least it's up. And I know you will hate me at the end of it. My apologies in advance. Feel free to vent your anger in the form of reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"Company!" Michael barked. "We are about to be overrun with hostiles. I assume you all are prepared."

The men pulled out high-powered handguns from under coats and out of belts. The women dug in their purses for their personal weapons, silencers, and extra ammunition clips. Mark went over to a duffel bag by the door and pulled out three sniper rifles. He gave one to Michael and passed the other to Sarina. Sarnia grimly took it.

S_arina, what are you doing?_ Isaac asked carefully.

D_efending those I love_, she replied casually. _I've been trained with rifles and hand guns since I was eight._

Since the night the vampire took her mother.

Isaac nodded. If she needed the weight of a rifle in her hands to feel safe, he would permit it. But he would not allow the enemy to get close enough for her to use it. Isaac nodded to Michael and Mark respectfully. His eyes dwelt on Sarina and the possession and love in his gaze said more than words.

D_o not do anything stupid,_ he warned her, his voice full of warmth.

She rolled her eyes and turned to Mark and accepted a box of ammunition. When she turned back, Isaac was gone. She could still feel him as a shadow on the edge of her thoughts, so she knew he hadn't truly disappeared.

"Your boyfriend running from a fight?" Mark sneered.

Sarina turned a cold eye on her long time friend. When had he become so jealous and sarcastic? "No," she replied coldly. "I think you'll find that Isaac runs to the fight. You might not even get a chance to fire that pretty little pistol of yours."

Mark sighed. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"What is up with you?" Sarina demanded. "I mean, honestly, you've known me most of my life. You're family! Where do you get off making snarky remarks about the future father of my children?"

Mark winced and looked guiltily away. "So that's it, then? You two are a done deal?"

"We always were," she replied softly as she opened the rifle's magazine. "I told you, it wasn't like we had a choice about it. It just happened."

"And you're not even going to fight it?" Mark demanded.

"What is there to fight? He's the other half of my soul!" she cried. She saw his misery acutely. She suddenly knew—without explanation—that Mark had secretly been in love with her for years. Even though he was 10 years older than her and an incurable playboy, she was the only woman he had ever really loved, the only one that he would never desert in the morning. She sighed, her heart aching for her friend. "You're going to meet your match, one day," she warned him frankly. "She'll have a spitfire personality and she'll probably punch you on sight, but you'll be so infatuated you'll never look at another woman again."

"How do you know?" Mark asked, caught between pessimism and hope.

"I just do. Now, lets get Stephanie and Egan down stairs where the little buns won't get caught in the cross fire, and we'll set up defensive positions around the back door. When Isaac gives the signal, we'll be out of here in an instant."

Isaac drifted through the night like a shadow, taking note of every adversary and their positions around his home. He had chosen the house well, it was on a bluff with nearly a third of it facing sheer cliffs down to the sea. The assassins were having trouble getting close without making a commotion.

As Isaac crept over his property, he reached out with his mind to touch one of the human assistants of the Dubrinsky Psychic Haven. She was one of the first psychics that the haven had rescued. Descended from a Jaguar line, Nenet Santiago was gifted with pyrokenisis, but it was difficult to control at times. With help from some of the other Carpathians, Nenet had learned how to better control her abilities, and was now one of the Haven junior vice presidents, living only 30 miles away from Isaac's home.

Nenet had already met many single Carpathian males, and her voice clips and pictures had been circulated, but no match had been found. She was also more abrasive than any woman Isaac had ever met, but that could be marked up to her gradual weening from Prozak and other mind-altering prescription drugs she had self-medicated with in an effort to keep her fire-starting talents under control. Regardless of her all-too-human flaws, she was a pinnacle of efficiency. She had no qualms about sharing her blood with Carpathians as it made her job a lot easier and faster, as was the case now.

Isaac found her talking with Jas and Madalyn Travatelli, which surprised him. They were supposed to be working on the Dubrinsky Haven in Montana and the rest of the great planes. Still, having another able-bodied ancient in the area was truly a blessing.

_Good evening_, he called out through the link he had with Nenet. _I am in dire need of assistance. The Morrison Foundation has mounted an assault on my home with the intent of obtaining my lifemate._ Quickly, Isaac relayed the important information about the pending invasion of his home.

_We will be there with all speed,_ Jas replied, all business. He and Madalyn dissolved into mist and streaked out the window. Nenet instantly moved into action and Isaac disconnected his link with her, satisfied that help would arrive with transportation for the humans as soon as physically possible. All he had to do was delay the attack long enough for her to get there.

Isaac drifted closer to a large van that seemed to be the focus of all the action.

"I don't care if there's a cliff on one side, when I said _surrounded,_ I meant _surrounded. _Not three-quarters surrounded. Not seven-eighths. It's not surrounded unless there are snipers all the way _around_ the house," Felix Webber chastised one of the commanders.

"But sir, the is just no way-" the man in black protested.

"Then make a way!" Webber snapped. "That house is crawling with dark creatures, Harris. Evil and vile things that will drain your blood and worse. It is our duty to exterminate them for the good of all man kind, and if even one of them escapes, I'm holding you personally responsible."

The man called Harris saluted and left, leaving Webber to gloat over his private, sick fantasies. He would have every male in the house killed—they were too strong to contain. But the females he could manage with little difficulty. He just needed to let some of his...less virtuous men alone with them for 15 minutes, and the bitches would be broken, sobbing, putty in his palm.

Isaac drifted behind him and materialized. His large hand wrapped around Webber's neck, cutting of his air supply, making it impossible for the man to breath, much less scream.

"Guess who?" Isaac asked. "It is I, the big bad wolf."

He snapped Webber's neck without or remorse. The body flopped forward onto the shelf-desk installed on the inside of the van wall. Isaac took his time going through all the schematics and computers. These assassins were well prepared—even using infrared scans to determine how many people were inside the building. It amused Isaac a little that no matter how prepared these butchers were, they never knew how to deal with a full fledged Carpathian hunter. Silly little worms.

The Morrison foundation had indeed tracked Michael through his gasoline purchase, as well as several phone calls made from public phones to his friends—turns out that every one of them was being watched for suspicious psychic activity, especially Drusilla, Devonte, and Sam. From there, satellites had been employed to follow the suspects to this location, and Felix Webber had arrived only 12 hours later. Isaac sent the important data to a dummy email address before completely wiping every scrap of memory in the van. Then he dissolved into mist, leaving Webber's inert body where it had fallen.

Until Jas, Madalyn, and Nenet got here, there were 30 armed men closing in on his house with his lifemate inside. As soon as someone opened the van door and saw Webber dead, they would start firing wildly. He needed to take out as many as possible before that happened.

He drifted like mist to the first pair of snipers, materialized behind them, and crushed their necks at the exact same time, one in each hand. Then he moved to the next pair. It impressed him slightly that these particular assassins knew the dangers of being alone in the night, but in their small groups of 2 or 3, they didn't stand a chance against him.

He came up like fog behind a trio who were trying to sneak around the west side of the house. When he materialized, both hands shot out, one clamping around the victim's mouth, plunging into his chest, through ribs that snapped like kindling, to pull out the fluttering heart. The man dropped without a sound. The next line received the same treatment. The third turned to check on his buddies and saw Isaac advancing with glowing eyes. Isaac muted his voice with a thought and reached out with one hand to grab the man's neck and crush it.

The red haze of battle was on him now. These men had deliberately come here to capture and torture, or barring that kill, his lifemate and her—now his-family. He shifted into mist and found his next two victims. He slammed both their heads into a rocky outcropping, crushing their sculls and pulverizing their faces beyond recognition, killing them instantly. The next two must have had a sixth sense about what was going on, because they were back to back. Isaac wrapped around them swiftly in mist form, his essence sharper than a wire. A line around their middles blossomed in red before their intestines poured out onto the dirt.

He reached the next pair just as someone gave a call of alarm from the van. He coiled around their heads and popped their eardrums. Then he reached out with his mind and gave them both fatal strokes.

Eleven men down, the rest were quickly mobilizing towards the house. Isaac brushed Sarina's mind to make sure she was alright. Everyone was. Everyone was going down towards the sea. He couldn't help but admire her courage as she lead the tactical retreat down the wooden stairs that clung to the cliff face.

Jas materialized beside him. He wore a deep indigo shirt that matched the dark blue of his eyes. His posture was unusually formal yet he seemed comfortable with it. Without a word, he offered his wrist. Understanding his message that a the private communication afforded by a blood-bond would give them a tactical advantage, especially if any of the vampires they suspected of hiding behind the Morrison agency were lurking near, Isaac respectfully sank his teeth into Jas' flesh. He took just enough blood for an exchange, the ancient's powerful energies restoring him unlike anything else he'd experienced, and then offered his own wrist to Jas. Jas repeated the process, completing the exchange.

_What is your situation now?_ Jas asked.

_There are 20 men left who pose a threat. My lifemate is waiting for Nenet to arrive with a boat,_ he replied.

_Why do you not simply have everyone hide in the sleeping chamber?_ Jas asked cautiously.

_Because I am not willing to risk reinforcements showing up when these sorry-excuses-for-humans fail to report in a timely manor,_ Isaac replied crisply. _I am going to sell this house and find somewhere that hasn't been comprised by the Morrison Foundation to raise a family._

_Good reason,_ Jas conceded. Scanning the area, he suggested, _I will take the northern side of the estate, you take the southern. We will start near the dock and work our way around to those you have already disposed of._

_Agreed._ Isaac launched himself into the air and focused on his task. A storm was brewing overhead, and he could feel a strange feminine touch to it. Maddie was apparently very adept at weather and this was quickly becoming a violent masterpiece. Soon, winds were howling so eerily that if he did not know the source, it would have given him goosebumps. As it was, he could tell the weather conditions were affecting the mercenaries.

Isaac came upon a group of four, huddled back to back with their guns facing outward, looking for danger. Their one mistake was not looking up. Using the storm Maddie provided, he directed a fork of lightning to all of them, overloading their hearts and brains in a single instant.

The next three were cowering behind a rock. Pulling moisture from the air, Isaac pierced all three hearts with javelins of ice. They died quickly, their blood staining the soil black. A little further, three more were scrambling back to the protection of the vehicles. This time Isaac pulled down hale stones the size of grapefruits from the clouds to pummel them until their skulls were fractured and their bones were broken.

Back at the cars, Isaac met again with Jas.

_I destroyed eleven of our enemies, _he said.

_That makes the total of 20,_ Isaac concluded. He reached out to check on Nenet's progress. She was nearly at the dock. _Let us get back to the others._

_Agreed._ The two hunters launched into the storm that was now breaking and flew over the house towards the sea.

_Darling?_ Sarina's tentative voice intruded. Her fear made his heart falter.

_What is wrong, mein liebe?_ he demanded.

_You missed one._ Sarina stared at the lone survivor of Felix Webber's assault team. So young that he could barely be considered a man, he was trembling as he stared down the scope of his rifle at Sarina, who was also aiming her gun at him, her hold much steadier. He looked so lost and afraid. "It's not worth it," she cautioned him, her voice like crystal chimes in the suddenly still air.

"Can't...trust you," he muttered as he tried to grip his gun tighter.

"Of course you can," she replied gently. She lowered her weapon and opened her arms invitingly.

_What are you doing?_ Isaac demanded, his heart in his throat.

_Changing a heart,_ she replied confidently.

"You're a vampire," the man accused, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Do I look like a vampire?" she asked.

"N...no," he stammered.

"You have a choice to make," she said, her tones filled with truth he couldn't ignore. "You can take the shot and most certainly die, or you can set down your weapon and live to see the sunrise." She sought his mind with hers, bringing up every reason he had to live.

"I...I have...a girlfriend—I want to...pop the question," he said. "And a sick grandmother...I took this job...to pay her hospital bills."

"If you put down your gun, I promise you that you will live to see both of them again."

"But then I'd be a traitor to my race!" he snarled, the old conditioning resurfacing. His finger caressed the trigger. "You are dark creatures—you deserve to die!"

"If you kill me in cold blood, you are a traitor to everything you love," she replied, her voice dropping to a compelling alto. His eyes became watery with tears as he readjusted his hold on the gun again.

_Mein liebe, get out of the way. Let me dispose of this scum,_ Isaac ordered.

_He's not scum,_ she insisted. _He's just confused!_

_He is dangerously brainwashed,_ Isaac growled.

_I can reach him_, she insisted.

Isaac landed on the dock, cloaking his presence from the gunman so as not to alarm him. Nenet had just pulled up to the dock, and Michael and Mark were helping everyone board the vessel.

_He has threatened you—that is reason enough for him to die,_ Isaac snarled, the beast inside him urging him to make the kill.

She ignored him. "Set down the gun and talk with me. There has been too much death this night—do not throw your life away."

The man's grip relaxed and the gun barrel drifted down to point at the sand. He was crying freely now, tears coursing down his cheeks like waterfalls.

"You do not have the heart of a killer," she insisted, her beautiful voice compelling him to believe it. He lowered the gun, enthralled by the music of her speech. "I will make sure you are safe. We will keep you from the clutches of the Morrison foundation. It is they who are the traitors to humanity. You know this to be true."

"I—I—" The man's fingers flexed as he fought the mind control.

Isaac sensed the foundation's brainwashing making one last attempt to resurface and he acted. Every instinct demanded he protect Sarina with his life. His body shimmered into visibility in front of her.

Startled, the man automatically lifted his gun and fired.

"NO!" Sarina moved with unnatural speed around Issac to intercept the bullet. It entered her her sternum and pushed through her back, exiting just to the right of her spinal column. It was an oversized round, armor piercing, and tore through tissue and bone without mercy.

"Son of a bitch!" Michael screamed. He raised his gun and fired four rounds at the assassin.

Isaac caught her as she fell, the beast in him baying for bloody revenge while the man in him wept for her sacrifice.

_No!_ Sarina cried out mentally. Merging with Isaac, she threw up a shield around the man.

_What are you doing? He deserves far worse for what he has done do you!_ Isaac cried.

_He didn't shoot at me, _she whispered, her voice far away. _He was scared of you—anyone would be. Please, don't kill him. I can...reach...him._

"Oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" the man cried. He dropped the gun like it was a snake. "What have I done? Oh my god!"

Isaac looked up at the man, his eyes blazing red like hot coals. "She requested that I not take your life this night," he snarled, his voice low and menacing.

"I'm so sorry—is there anything I can do? Call 911?" the man frantically asked.

"You will come to me and give me your blood," Isaac demanded, the command a sinister and undeniable compulsion. The man stumbled over to the couple at the same moment Michael and Mark arrived at Sarina's side.

"Why the hell are you still alive?" shouted Michael.

"I need him," Isaac said darkly. One hand flashed out and gripped the man's arm. Uncaring about clouding his victim's mind, Isaac sank his teeth into the man's wrist and viciously drank. The man didn't fight it. As his mind opened to Isaac, Isaac saw his true repentance, and his willingness to be drained dry as punishment for his stupidity. His heart ached for his girlfriend and grandmother, but he would not shrink away from this cruel judgment.

_See? _Sarina whispered as her heart faltered from blood loss. _He has...a good soul._

Isaac shoved the man roughly away. Tearing his own wrist with his teeth, he forced Sarina to drink his rich blood. At the same time, his spirit left his body to invade hers. He quickly cauterized the worst of the wounds, staunching the hemorrhage of life fluid.

"Is she going to be alright?" Mark asked, fear choking his voice.

"I will make certain of it," Isaac vowed. "Take that man with you—I will deal with him later." Gathering Sarina in his arms, he launched into the air in search of a healing cave. _Stay with me, mein liebe, mein hertz, mein seele. Do not leave me in the darkness._

_I could never leave you, _she whispered. _I love you too much._


	15. Chapter 15

I AM NOT DEAD! Had a few near misses and Real Life nearly crushed my soul, but I'm BACK! Sorry for the short chapter—I am working on more!

Chapter 15

Isaac found the same sea caves where they had spent the night before last. He lowered her limp, broken body into the mineral rich earth. The conversion would start soon, and he still had so much healing to do.

His spirit left his body to become pure healing energy. Working as swiftly as he dared, he reconstructed her sternum, drained her lungs of blood, repaired artery walls. The conversion was starting as he pulled out of her body.

_Stay with me,_ he begged as he tore open his wrist and once more forced his dark and powerful blood between her lips. _This will be painful and I am sorry for that._

_It's ok...I'm used to pain..._ she sighed, her voice so distant. She felt the burning wrenching sensation as the first convulsion twisted her insides. If there wasn't still a hole in her chest, she might have found the strength to curl into a fetal position as pain radiated through her whole body. When it momentarily receded, she managed to catch her breath. _It's a little like the chemo...only a lot worse._

Isaac could hear the attempted smile in her voice and it nearly undid him. His heart couldn't find a steady rhythm. Even as she was wracked with agonizing convulsions, she still sought to comfort him. He wanted to weep but was too hot with anger to shed a single tear.

_You should have let me destroy that maggot,_ he snarled, his voice harsh with despair. _He does not deserve to live._

_He was just scared of the big bad wolf, _she teased—cut off by another rolling wave of pain. Isaac held her hand and tried to take some of it away, to shoulder it and shield her from it, but no matter how much he relieved, there was always more barreling in behind it.

_He should be scared,_ Isaac continued the conversation, trying to give her something besides the pain to focus on.

_I know we can reach him—he could give us valuable...informa-_ more pain blossomed in her vital organs and she arched her back against the fiercest pain in her kidneys. She gave out a strangled sob that nearly tore out Isaac's heart. _Sorry,_ she whispered, sounding exhausted in her mind. _It slipped out without permission._

_There is nothing he can give to make up for this,_ he replied with a curse.

_Come on,_ she reasoned. _You said yourself that I would eventually be converted. I doubt it would be less painful without the bullet in my chest. In fact, right now, I wouldn't notice if someone tried to skin me alive._

She rolled to her side and vomited blood, bile, and salt water.

_I can't breathe! s_he cried, panicking for the first time. _I can't breathe—I'm drowning!_

Isaac's spirit left his body to investigate Sarina's. _Your gills have sealed over,_ he informed her. _Your lungs are reshaping themselves. You can breathe—in through your nose, out through your mouth._ He coaxed, his lungs expanding in unison as he guided her through the steps.

_I'm not getting any air! s_he insisted. He pressed his ear to her chest, but couldn't hear the rush of air through her bronchial tubes. The conversion was still working on her lungs and body, shaking her entire form with painful convulsions. Suddenly, something popped, and in a desperate gasp, she was finally able to draw air into her lungs. Isaac wanted to weep with relief.

_I will send you to sleep now, mein liebe, to preserve you from more pain, _he told her.

_Just don't leave me alone, even when I'm unconscious,_ she insisted. He nodded his agreement and with power forged by desperation, he gave her a firm command to sleep. Her body went slack in his arms as it no longer fought the burning conversion. Then he opened up the earth and they both sank into the waiting arms of the dark soil. Just before he shut down his own heart, he constructed safeguards around their sleeping place; terrible, deadly spells that would destroy anyone who tried to get near his beautiful and courageous lifemate.

Isaac woke the moment the sun set. Even within the pressing confines of the earth, he held Sarina close. His spirit left his body to investigate hers. The conversion was over. She was wholly Carpathian. Cautiously, he woke her.

Her eyes fluttered open and fixed on his worried face. She smiled, so serenely and lovingly he thought his heart would shatter.

"Morning, stud-muffin," she cooed softly.

"How do you feel?" he insisted seriously, trying to ignore the rising demands of his body.

She grinned and rolled him over. He allowed her to push him down and straddle his hips. "I feel fabulous!" she cried. She seductively ran her hands up her body, pausing at her face. She pinched her cheeks in wonder. "Look at this! I even have baby fat again!"

"You do have a little more flesh on your bones," he agreed with a wicked smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "But you are still very willowy, and I do not want to break you. You need ample nutrition, and I can do no other than provide for you."

"Oh really?" she said with a lopsided smile. "And are you so bursting with nutrition at the moment that you aren't afraid that I will drain you dry?"

"You are welcome to try," he grinned wickedly.

He kissed her chest down the valley between her breasts. Then he grazed his teeth over her hard nipples as his hands stroked her waist and hips. Sarina rained kisses on his head as both hands circled and caressed his neck. She pressed her hips close to him, encouraging him with a gentle squeeze on the back of his neck.

He took her meaning; one hand cupped her mound, rubbing her lips gently, separating them, and testing her readiness. She was so wet; he could smell her sweet juices calling to him. Because he was still afraid of crushing her if he rolled her over, he just lifted her hops over his erect member and drove himself deep inside her.

Sarina gasped at his invasion, but welcomed it. She felt stretched and filled and somehow complete. Her heart raced and adrenalin flooded her system. He pulled back and surged forward again. Even though he was under her, he guided her hips with his strong hands so that she hardly had to do anything but push herself up a little. She hooked her heals behind his knees so that she could pull self onto him as fast and hard as possible. He groaned with pleasure as she rocked her hips into him, pushing him into the farthest corners of her womb. His set a frantic pace, as if he was afraid to stop. Their breathing synchronized. She gasped and panted. He grunted. She pushed into him while he plunged into her. No words, no direction or explanation. They were just two lovers trying to get as close as possible.

She felt the orgasm approaching like a freight train. It rumbled through her entire body and she had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. As her teeth sank into his shoulder, he gave a hoarse shout and drove every last inch of his length deep inside her, where he finally came, filling her with even more heat. She swayed on top of him. He gathered her close and locked his arms around her.

"You will never scare me like that again," he commanded, his voice still hoarse from the desperate lovemaking.

"I will do my best," she promised. "Besides, that hurt. I think child-birth will be a breeze, after all this."

"Maybe someday far in the future," he grumbled.

"Oh, husband," she cooed, and they both felt a thrill from the word. "Do you have any idea how fertile the ocean is? Do you think it will really take us that long to conceive?"

He smiled and squeezed her. "I want you again," he whispered.

"See what I mean?" she whispered back. "With your insatiable libido and my fertile womb, we'll have a whole pod of children in no time."

"As long as I still get to do this to you," he kissed her again, his hands running over her body, heating it up once more.

"Always and forever, my love," she moaned blissfully.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It was nearly 4 am by the time Isaac and Sarina made it to the new safehouse—not because it was so far away, but because every time Isaac was about to let her go, he pulled her close and made love to her again. Eventually, they came up for air and flew to the cabin buried deep in the mountains.

The Marines were still with Michael. Isaac sensed their duel anxiety at being with a Night Hunter and being beyond his protection. Most of them were asleep in government-issue sleeping bags on the floor. Sarina greeted the two alert guards briefly and then sought out her father.

"Sarina! You're ok?" her father asked as he held her close.

"I'm fine, dad. Isaac took good care of me," she insisted.

Michael held Sarina at arm's length. "Look at you—you're gorgeous. You're the picture of perfect health. You're…you're just amazing. I love you so much!" He hugged her again. When he finally could bear to let go, he held his hand out for Isaac to shake. "I'm sorry for all my previous misgivings. You really are the best man in the world for my daughter, and I am blessed and proud to have you as a son-in-law."

Isaac clasped Michael's forearm in the manner of old warriors. "She will always be safe in my care," he vowed.

"So, where is he?" she demanded, her voice soft but not lacking in authority.

"Where is who?" Michael tried playing dumb.

"You know very well _who._ Where's the man we rescued last night," she insisted.

"Not sure 'rescued' is the right term, but he's in the basement. Mark is keeping an eye on him," her father grumbled.

Sarina spun around and flitted down the stairs faster than any human could. Isaac followed stoically, unsure if he approved of his lifemates' intentions. He could read the compassion in her mind clearly, but doubted the would-be murderer deserved the smallest fraction of her attention.

Sarina was purposefully ignoring Isaac's disapproving glances. Outside the small room, Mark stood on guard. As soon as he saw Sarina, he swept her into his arms for a bear hug.

"You're alive!" he cried, delighted.

"Of course I'm alive," she said as she gave him a brief hug back before breaking away for Isaac's comfort.

"You took a high-calliber, _armor piercing round TO THE CHEST,_" Mark reminded her.

"And don't I make it look good," she teased.

"I'd check for a wound or scar, but your boyfriend might finally kill me," he retorted. Mark gave Isaac an exasperated look. Isaac just smiled proudly as he pulled Sarina under his arm, protectively. Her survival had been a testament to the bond lifemates shared. No one would doubt his claim ever again, and Mark knew it.

"So what brings you to the dungeon?" Mark changed the topic.

"I'm here to see the prisoner of course," she replied. With that, she breezed past him and into the room. Even in the nearly non-existent light, she could see the gunman from the night before, tied to a chair and looking terrible. As she stared at his two black eyes, split lips, bruised face and arms, and noticed the way he hunched over to one side as if his ribs were cracked or even broken, she realized that everyone must have taken out their anxiety over her survival on him. Her heart nearly broke.

_Mein liebe, _Isaac called to her softly, unable to ignore the tears gathering in her eyes. _Do not judge them harshly. What he did to you was unforgiveable. _

_I forgave him,_ she snapped back. Then she turned to Mark, who was glaring at the prisoner from the doorway. "Get out," she ordered. "And you"—she pointed at Isaac—"be quiet."

Mark felt bodily pushed out of the room. It felt similar to when Isaac had ordered him out of Keona's hospital room, but he could tell the touch was Sarina's. That just irritated him more.

Sarina, oblivious to her new power, knelt in front of the wounded gunman.

"Good morning," she murmured in soft, deep tones.

The man, who had been unresponsive until now, squinted up at her through swollen eyes. He wet his lips as if to speak, but winced when it stung, and decided not to say anything at all.

"I know you've had a rough day and night," she continued, her voice like a soothing balm. "I'm so sorry for that."

He shook his head, denying her apology. "My fault," he rasped. "I shot."

"You shot at a creature more powerful than you can imagine—a dangerous and dark being that had already killed everyone else in that assault force," Sarina reminded him. "Self-preservation is a powerful instinct and there is no shame in that."

The man glanced up at Isaac, apprehensive about the reminder of exactly who and what was presiding over this little meeting.

"It's ok right now—I'm all better, see?" she held out her arms as proof that her rib cage was whole. She put one hand on the man's cheek. "Now, let's see if we can make you feel better."

Isaac felt Sarina's power swell like storm tide as he watched in the dim light. There was no glow or chant or any of the usual signs when a Carpathian naturally healed another. Instead, the rushing sound of blood through the veins and arteries became louder, until it sounded like waves crashing upon the shore. The black and purple bruises faded from the man's face even as identical dark marks blossomed on Sarina's.

Alarmed, Isaac was ready to break their connection, but Sarina was in his mind, soothing him. The gunman saw the bruises on Sarina's face, and his freshly healed eye began to weep. Sarina removed her hand to wipe his tears away with her fingertips. Even as the gunman watched, the stains on her skin faded into shadows and then nothing.

"There. That's a bit better now. Why don't you tell me your name?" she asked, keeping all judgment out of her voice. Taking those bruises into herself had hurt—it always did with her particular style of healing—but her new Carpathian body was quicker to heal than her human one. She also understood the extent of the damage done to the poor man. His eye-socket had been cracked, several teeth loosened and one broken in half. Even as her body made its final repairs, she thought of a few choice words she would share with the Marines upstairs.

"Roy. Roy Travis," he grunted, his throat still clogged with sobs.

"It's going to be ok, Roy. I promise," she murmured as she laid her hand on the other side of his face.

"No!" Roy jerked his head out of her hands. "No—you're too good. I can't let you. I deserve it. I _deserve it!_"

"Roy, you can't think to go back to your grandmother and girlfriend looking like mincemeat," she teased gently.

"My grandma is dead—I just have her doctor bills to remember her by. And my girlfriend left me three months ago. I thought if I had a good-paying job—where I could be a hero—she might come back but—" His voice cracked. "I ain't a hero. Never was, never will be."

At least this human understood where he was on the food chain, Isaac thought. Literally—he smirked at the irony, remembering how he had used the man's blood to sustain Sarina.

_That's not funny,_ Sarina snarled at him. Isaac just let it pass.

"Roy, do you know who and what the Morrison Foundation was?" she asked softly.

"I thought they…protected the innocent from…vampires," he mumbled.

"They lied to you," she replied, her eyes sorry for the tragedy he went through. "They brainwashed you. In reality, they hunt down psychics and sometimes regular humans who have an affinity for the gothic lifestyle. They preform experiments on them and murder them, in the name of science and international security."

Roy was sobbing harder. Sarina felt his shame weighing on him. He had made all the wrong choices, and believed that he didn't deserve to live. If he wasn't tied to the chair, he probably would have attempted suicide by now.

"But their sins are not your sins," she continued. "I've looked into your heart and seen that there is still good in you. That's why I reached out to you the other night. You are only guilty of believing in a cause—a worthy cause, for there are dark and evil creatures that prey upon mankind. I've seen them. You look at my mate and you see something dark, but he is the first—and last—line of defense against those who would destroy all living things. And now you will join that force."

Roy just shook his head, unable to speak.

_There's something wrong, _Sarina called to Isaac.

_Understatement._

_The brainwashing is still there. He can't accept his failure or see beyond them moment. Please, help him,_ she begged.

Isaac didn't want to—he REALLY didn't want to—but Sarina's dark eyes, full of compassion and mercy, compelled him to act. Sighing his frustration, he entered Roy's mind to find the problem.

Roy's mind was a mess. Motives were tangled up, emotions were repressed, fears and anxieties were redirected to bizarre places. As Isaac investigated all the ins and outs of Roy's mental state, he realized that Sarina was right about this man. He was good. He was fighting some horrible compulsion laid deep in his subconscious. It was well known to the Carpathian people that those working for the Morrison Foundation were often hypnotized to "protect" their minds, but far more than mental barriers were implanted.

In Roy's mind, a dark shadow seethed, demanding death—_anyone's_ death, even Roy's. Roy himself was weak from fighting the shadow for so long. Pain seemed to placate it, and Roy had sought to feed it with pain first with self-mutilation and vicious brawls. The beating he had received from the Marines had helped him in the fight, even as it had sapped his strength. While Isaac did not approve of his methods, it was difficult not to pity the poor mortal and even grudgingly admire his willingness to do whatever it took to overcome his inner demon.

Carpathian males faced a darkness that was not unsimilar, and where they had elders to teach them how to fight it and centuries to prepare for the vicious and seductive demands, Roy had the darkness pushed into him without any preparation or instruction. It was obvious that the shadow had intended to corrupt Roy to the deepest depths of his soul. And still, the fragile human resisted with remarkable intuition and tenacity.

Resolved, Isaac focused deep within Roy's mind and found the root of darkness. Sarina was with Isaac, and together, they feed the root light and warmth and compassion until it withered. Roy screamed and howled and twisted against his bonds as the darkness fought to keep a hold on him, but it did no good. Soon, the darkness was burned away. Roy sagged with fatigue.

Isaac took the time to quickly spot-heal the worst of Roy's injuries. He knit the man's ribs together and stopped some small internal bleeding—things he didn't want Sarina absorbing should she try to heal the man again.

"Roy? Roy, are you there?" Sarina called, using her voice as well as her mind.

"I…I am," he whispered.

"How are you?" she asked, deeply concerned.

"…Better," he finally admitted.

"You look like you could use a vacation," she suggested with an encouraging smile. She reached behind him and used one of her fingernails to slice through the ropes holding him to the chair.

He shook his head as he massaged his chafed arms and wrists. "They'll find me. They'll hunt me down."

"Not where I'm going to send you," she replied confidently. "I know of this little place off the coast of New Zealand and I'm sure you'll just love. Warm summers, beautiful women, a peaceful life, and it will all be yours."

Roy looked into her eyes for the first time, as if he was trying to discover some deeper truth. "Why?"

"It's what I do," she answered. "It's what I've always done. It's why people like me exist; because there is a need for us." She looked over at Isaac as she said it. He needed her, and that was all the reason she needed to be with him. She knew his love was deeper than any oceanic trench, vaster than any sea, more constant than any current, and she loved him back the same way. Their bond was elemental, primal, undeniable and unbreakable.

"Thank you," Roy finally rasped. Roy looked up at Isaac, his eyes conveying gratitude to the point of fanatical devotion. Somehow, Roy knew exactly how much Isaac had helped him, and he knew that Sarina wouldn't have been allowed to help him if Isaac had not grudgingly approved. "Is there anything I can do? I know names, places, passwords—I'll give them all to you."

"That would be most helpful," Isaac intoned gravely.

"Is there anything else? Anything at all! Do you need more blood or—"

"You are weak," Isaac warned. "You should recover before you offer any more."

Roy nodded and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. "Then…in the meantime, could I get a shower?"

"Absolutely," Sarina replied, smiling.

Stiffly, Rob got up from the chair and the three of them left the room.

"What the hell is he doing loose?" Mark growled the instant he saw the gunman. His fists were balled and he was ready to beat the man back into the chair.

Sarina calmly laid a hand on Mark's chest. "It's alright. He's with me."

"How many losers are you going to pick up?" Mark snarled, his gaze snapping from Roy to Isaac.

Sarina moved forward only two inches, but Mark flew back ten feet into the wall. He slumped to the floor and looked up at Sarina, bewildered. She glared at him, her arm still outstretched as if to hold him against the wall, the whites of her eyes taking on a bluish hue. Isaac also glared at Mark over her shoulder, his eyes blood red.

"Choose your words more carefully," Sarina warned, her voice low and resonant with power.

"Sorry," Mark grumbled sullenly. "Didn't mean to offend your boyfriend."

"My _lifemate,_" she corrected, as dark and dangerous as a tropical storm.

"Fine, you're lifemate," Mark quickly corrected.

The storm passed. Sarina dropped her arm. Mark sighed with relief. Isaac kissed the top of his lifemate's head.

_Remind me never to cross you,_ he chuckled silently.

_I've been doing just that the entire time you've known me,_ she reminded him. _It's a good think you're finally coming to see reason._

Isaac just wrapped his arms around Sarina and they continued upstairs.


End file.
